


But Never Inconstant

by shireness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, persuasion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Persuasion AU. Killian Jones and Emma Swan were wildly in love, until he broke their engagement, ostensibly to preserve her family ties. Eight years later, the former lovers meet again. Can they mend their relationship and right their misunderstandings, or is it too late?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Title references a quote from Jane Austen's Persuasion. Persuasion is my favorite Austen, and inspired this particular fic. Enjoy!

It ends quietly.

One day, it is widely believed that there must be an understanding between Miss Emma Swan, heiress to the Misthaven estate and title, and Lieutenant Killian Jones, second son of a tradesman and sailor in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The next, Lieutenant Jones had left town without any engagement announcement or explanation.

It’s a subject of gossip for a few days, but by the end of the week, it is universally decided that the unfortunate event really shouldn’t affect Miss Swan at all. After all, she’s a lovely young woman, well bred, at the end of her first Season, with a substantial fortune and expansive titled estate to be inherited upon her marriage. It’s certainly a pity that she should seem so sad, but she’ll bounce back in time. After all, it’s only her first youthful infatuation, isn’t it? And a young lady sometimes likes these little dramas.

\------

The breaking of their engagement and parting of ways is a mutual decision.

(That’s what he tells himself at least.)

Though it’s painful, he’s confident that she will be far happier with her family and another, wealthier, better connected man than she would be running off with him and being forced to cut ties with her last living kin as a result. They’ve both already lost their parents; he can’t force her to lose anyone else, particularly the cousins she loves like sisters.

So he leaves town, and throws himself into his duties on board his ship. He doesn’t allow himself to think of how things might have been in another world, how things should have been if his dearest wishes were reality. He rarely allows himself to think of Emma at all. What’s done is done.

At 24, three years later, he enters into an engagement with his captain’s daughter. Miss Milah Harding is a lively girl, very pretty, if somewhat flighty. Killian cares for her, in a way, but has no illusions of being in love. No, he’s had his great love; that’s something that only comes once a lifetime.

When she dies of a fever, mere weeks before the wedding, he declares himself done with the business of love and matrimony.

He devotes himself even further to his career, and a year later, against all odds, becomes captain of his own ship. He is dedicated to his ship, to his crew, and hopes to one day dedicate himself to a whole gaggle of nieces and nephews.

In rare moments, he allows himself to think of Emma, mostly in times of great stress. After one particularly frightening naval battle, where he suffers a wound to his leg, Killian even writes her a letter, but can’t bring himself to post it. Surely, after five years, she has moved on, and has a lovely family of her own.

If he allowed himself to dwell on it, he’d call leaving her his greatest mistake. Instead, he chooses not to dwell, and tries to think of her as little as possible.

Until, of course, the night he shows up at his older brother’s new home, newly released from duty with the defeat of Napoleon, two naval comrades in tow, only to find the woman herself sitting at his brother’s table.

\------

The breaking of their engagement is his decision.

She’s quite certain on this count. To live without her family would be hard, but to live without him, her love, her Killian, would be miserable.

But he takes it upon himself to decide that he can’t possibly be worth estrangement from her family, and she’s left all alone.

The next years see some amount of suitors, but nothing pans out. Mr. Cassidy, while fabulously wealthy and having the approval of her aunt Cora, also seems to have made promises to half the ladies in London, which Emma finds she cannot stomach. Lord Oz, while he has a title, is discovered to also have a family history of mental instability, and that simply cannot be overlooked.

At 25, six years after she last sees Killian, she is finally granted her inheritance and permanently relocates to Misthaven. Her cousins are long since married and gone from home – Mary Margaret to the man she has often declared the love of life, David Nolan, and Regina already married, widowed, and left with a young son by the disinterested, if wealthy and titled, Viscount Storybrooke. Emma herself has resigned herself to spinsterhood – at 25, even her fortune is failing to be a draw after three failed matches. Instead, she dedicates herself to the management of her estate, aided by her capable steward, Mr. Humbert, and resolves to leave Misthaven to the Nolan’s second child. Her tenants are pleased to once again have a permanent mistress; Mrs. Lucas, the housekeeper, fusses over Emma like an adopted granddaughter; the crops thrive; and Emma feels happier and freer than she has been in town the past fourteen, and particularly the last six, years.

Meeting the new Mrs. Elsa Jones, heiress of the neighboring Arendelle estate and its lands, is something of a happy accident. Emma is forced to return to town to meet with her solicitor, and runs into the woman she learns is her neighbor at a dressmaker’s shop. Emma requires a new cloak, not having remembered exactly how cold Northern winters could be, and Mrs. Jones is arranging for a new evening gown for the first dance at her estate in many years, an event to be held in honor of her recent nuptials and the upcoming holiday season. The two women immediately discover something of a similarity in temperament, and upon learning of their close proximity, Elsa not only extends an invitation to the holiday dance, but additionally made plans two weeks hence to meet for tea.

Emma is somewhat more startled to learn, arriving for tea, that her new friend’s husband is none other than the older brother of her former love. Despite the potential for much awkwardness, upon learning that the younger Jones was away at sea for the foreseeable future, she resolves to set it all aside. Instead, she becomes dear friends with the family, in time being introduced to their younger sisters – Miss Belle Jones, a sensible and bright woman Emma’s own age, and Miss Anna Frost, three years younger and with all the exuberance of youth. The five form a close bond, dependent on each other’s company in a way only neighbors in a remote area become, and most nights see some combination of Emma and the Arendelle party dining together.

She is able, by the grace of God, to forget their connection to the man who hurt her nearly more than she can bear. Until, that is, the man himself arrives in his brother’s house entirely unannounced after six years’ absence, and most unfortunately, on a night Emma had been invited to join the Joneses at Arendelle for dinner.

\------

It’s a shock, seeing Emma Swan in his brother’s sitting room, apparently a bosom friend of his sister-in-law. It’s like Killian can feel his heart beating for the first time in years. On the one hand, it’s an exhilarating feeling; on the other, he wishes it would stop. He set aside any feelings for Miss Swan – now introduced as Countess Misthaven – years ago, and now is certainly not the time for any rekindling of those feelings, especially since she must now be married in order to be in possession of her inheritance.

Liam, Belle, and Elsa seem blissfully unaware of his inner struggle, so Killian can only assume that Emma hasn’t told his family of their previous relationship. During the time he and Emma knew one another, Liam had been on the Continent on a business matter, and Belle had been staying with friends in the country, and so neither had been aware of any attachment between the two. Likely, as far as they knew, Countess Misthaven was just a neighbor they had befriended, who had shared a passing acquaintance with their brother.

It certainly explains why they’d be sat next to one another at dinner. Though relatively informal, the seating was clearly engineered purposefully – thankfully, with the intent of allowing Miss Anna to continue speaking with one of his naval colleagues (Lieutenant Kristoff Erikson, who seems positively enamored with the young lady), rather than as a ploy to force himself and Emma into conversation. Belle had been seated across from a stricken Will Scarlet, with somewhat lesser results, considering Belle seemed more determined to ignore the midshipman’s antics than interacting with him. Regardless, this leaves Killian in the very awkward position of trying to make conversation with the woman he once broke an engagement with.

So much of him wants to not say anything at all, to let the matter be, but he’s committed to keeping the pretense that he and the lady are nothing more than vague acquaintances, and it would be more suspicious for the two of them to sit at the table in complete silence. Instead, it’s necessary to try to strike up some conversation, any conversation, with his former love, and he finally settles on a simple, “I trust that you are well, Miss Swan?”

Unfortunately, that seems to be the entirely wrong thing to say, as she turns a cold face in his direction. It likely would have been helpful not to refer to her by her maiden name out of a long-established habit. “I believe you mean Countess Misthaven. And I am as well as can be expected.”

It’s almost shocking, seeing how much the woman he used to know has changed. Emma Swan at 19 was an open, engaging young lady, ready with a smile and a quip. The woman sitting beside him today seems stronger, yes, more sure of herself, but still… harder. Less open and trusting. It strikes Killian, in a sudden pain, that part of that is likely due to his actions.

“Apologies, Milady. If it’s not too bold, may I ask why the Earl of Misthaven does not dine with us tonight?”

Clearly, he can’t help but say the wrong thing this even, for Emma turns even more icy – a feat he hadn’t believed possible. “There is no such man, at the moment. I inherited the earldom in my own right upon my twenty-fifth birthday. Now, if it’s not ‘too bold’, do you find your limp to be a hindrance in your day-to-day life?”

She’s hit him where it hurts, and she knows it – her own petty retaliation for his own lack of tact. So he replies with a simple “I manage”, turns his attention back to his soup, and allows her to finally turn her attention to speaking with Elsa, the conversation dying a natural death.

At least he finally knows where he stands. There’s some amount of guilt – Emma’s life clearly having not turned out as he had assumed it would – and a good portion of sadness. There’s some confusion, about the latter emotion. Killian hadn’t entered conversation with Miss… Countess Misthaven expecting to pick up where they had left off. He’s fully accepted that there will be no salvaging that relationship. So why in the world should he be sad?

\------

Emma is angry.

More than angry, really. Furious. Irate. Any word that could possibly come close to describe the level of _mad_ she is that Killian Jones has suddenly waltzed back into her life.

The thing is, he looks so well, as handsome as ever. Disregarding the slight limp – a shrapnel wound, she thinks one of his cohorts had said – his time at sea has left him hearty and hale, with a healthy tan and muscles she can tell are lurking just below his proper shirt and jacket. It’s just not fair. Some days she feels like her entire life was ripped from its course, that day eight years prior, reforming her into an entirely different woman from the girl the young lieutenant knew, yet he seems like he hasn’t changed a bit – no evidence of sleepless nights or any regrets at all. Killian was able to go out and live a life without her in it, seemingly without any ill effects or lingering thoughts of what they had shared.

She should be the better person – graciously accept his renewed presence in her little circle, let bygones be bygones – but Emma finds that she can’t. She’s spent eight years, forcing her anger and sorrow down, and she now intends to feel every moment. There’s still a little corner of her heart that had jumped with hope when Killian had first walked in, a little corner that might still love him after all these years, but she’s willing to let the parts of her that hate him for his actions smother those kind feelings.

Captain Killian Jones can keep his courtesy and his politeness and any plans he might have for reconciliation to himself.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sections in italics represent flashbacks.
> 
> Enjoy!

She’s a marvel.

She’s always been a marvel, really. It’s one of the first things that attracted Killian, all those years ago. Emma always had such a strong will, a determination to get what she wanted, and God help the man, woman, or child who stood in her way. At the same time, with her deep laugh and wide smile and confidence, you never truly wanted to stand in her way, wanted instead to help her along her path any way you could. He certainly did; eight years and a half ago, he would have gladly followed Emma to the end of the world, through whatever trouble she wanted to drag him into.

\------

_He first sees her during an outing to the British Museum. They’re both examining a gallery of Greek sculpture, and it’s really her companion’s nervous look that catches his attention. He’s standing there, wondering what in the world would make this petite brunette so anxious when suddenly, her blonde companion steps over the low rope at the back of a statue devoted to some unknown goddess in order to get a closer look at the workmanship._

_He’s amused at her boldness, but simultaneously, the good naval officer within him immediately wants to escort her back to sanctioned ground, or report her to the nearest gallery monitor. But before he can move in any direction, she catches his eye and lifts a single finger to her lips in a shushing motion, a twinkle in her eye the whole while._

_And that’s it. From that moment, he’s gone. Killian Jones will gladly follow Miss Emma Swan wherever she may lead._

\------

Clearly, Emma is still holding everyone in her thrall today. Over the past several weeks, the Arendelle party – including himself and his colleagues – had been invited to various events at Misthaven, offering Killian a first-hand view of Emma in her new role. It’s quickly apparent that everyone on her estate is half in love with her (especially her steward, who looks at her with far more admiration than Killian is comfortable with, even as he does his best to set any lingering jealousy aside). Emma has unmistakably grown from a bright girl to a smart and capable woman, one who isn’t afraid to express her opinions while still being wise enough to request and accept the advice of others. She’s more than just some figurehead landholder – Emma is friend and advisor and mediator. She’s a _leader_ , and handling that role admirably. He’s proud; she’s clearly become every inch the woman she had the potential to be, when presented the opportunity.

She also, very clearly, despises him. He’ll have to be ok with that – it’s no more than he deserves, after all. Adding an extra level of anxiety to his life, her two cousins and their families are visiting. He can only imagine she must have written to them upon his sudden re-entrance into her peaceful existence, summoning them as some form of moral support.

(What would that letter even look like, anyhow? _Jones is here, your presence would be appreciated in this difficult time_. Or perhaps the more sarcastic _Please join me at my home to engage in the torment of one Captain Killian Jones – refreshments will be provided_.)

The real problem is that, unlike his own family, Miss Blanchard and Miss Mills were very much present for his courtship of Miss Swan. The two ladies likely know every detail, from beginning to end – including the ugly specifics of how he left Emma to her own life while he went back to sea. More than just living in fear of receiving an irate remonstration from either woman, he fears one of them will tell his family, resulting in a set down at the hands of his own kin and causing a rift between Lady Misthaven and the inhabitants of Arendelle Manor. The two estates have come to greatly depend on one another for companionship; he knows first-hand that Elsa and Belle aren’t particularly close with anyone else in the region, and he hasn’t yet heard mention of Emma paying frequent call on any other local family. With that level of attachment and dependency, he’d rather leave the area altogether than create any kind of awkwardness or rift.

But Emma must have sworn her confidantes to secrecy, because he never hears a word of what happened eight years ago mentioned in his presence. That doesn’t mean the ladies are neutral parties, however. The former Miss Mills, now Lady Storybrooke, in particular seems to have thrown herself wholeheartedly into Emma’s cause, glowering at him from the corner of any given room. Killian hadn’t expected anything different, and had largely steeled himself for that reaction upon receiving word that the ladies were visiting. What’s more alarming is Mrs. Nolan’s reaction – more pity than anything else, like she can see into his soul in some unnatural way. It’s disconcerting, is what it is; he was expecting disgust, and instead gets this sweet woman who asks him about whether his leg is bothering him and if he’s feeling any better today. Frankly, he doesn’t know what to do with that variety of attention.

Killian is determined not to become any more attached, but he really does like the Mrs. Nolan and Lady Storybrooke’s families. David Nolan is a solid, sensible man with a good head on his shoulders, who suggests fishing expeditions after learning Killian had chosen Misthaven’s library over a hunting party due to the exertion it would have placed on his injured leg. The Nolan boys, five-year-old Leo and two-year-old Robbie, are mostly happy to play with one another or running around outdoors in the gardens – truly displaying their father’s love for rolling hills and fields – but Henry, the four-year-old Viscount Storybrooke, has the soul of an adventurer and follows Killian around whenever he visits, begging for stories of sea battles and far-off lands.

(He could be happy, if he let himself, in the company of new friends and old, but remembering that these people could have been his family too, had he not mucked things up, keeps his spirits suitably contained. Emma will never forgive him; it simply wouldn’t do to get too attached to the people she loves.)

\------

Emma hadn’t _asked_ Mary Margaret and Regina to come, per se. All she did was mention in a letter to each that Killian had arrived to visit his family, and the two ladies had drawn their own conclusions about what actions such information might require. The same conclusion. Probably after consultation with one another. Truly, it’s not Emma’s fault that her cousins are a little bit conniving.

It is nice having people in the house, for once. Half the reason Emma visits Arendelle so frequently, despite the new presence of a certain person, is because her old manor house gets so cold and quiet without anyone else living there. But with Mary Margaret comes David and their two sons, and with Regina comes Henry, and her home is suddenly host to a trio of rambunctious boys and lively dinners and Mary Margaret’s very poor attempts on the piano in the evenings. For the first time since Emma was a very little girl, the massive Misthaven Manor finally feels like a home.

Despite the presence of a captain who will not be mentioned, Emma and her family still keep frequent company with the Arendelle party. Mary Margaret is a consummate worrier; it’s nice to be able to reassure her that Emma does actually have people in her life who care for her. Not to mention, Mary Margaret and Regina have come for the express purpose of moral support; she’d be dense not to put them in Killian’s company to let them do their worst.

Regina, at least, delivers on that front. Emma’s dear cousin has never been the most approachable woman – learned well from her mother, that one – but the deadly glares she directs at Killian are truly something to behold. Unfortunately, Mary Margaret can’t quite live up to that standard.

“Of course I’m on your side!” she protests. “It’s just… he seems so sad, Emma, not like the cocky young sailor we used to know. I’m not saying you need to forgive him, I just… I feel a little sorry for him. Plus, Regina is already putting the fear of God into him. Isn’t that good enough?”

Trust Mary Margaret to be sweeter than anyone deserves. For Lord knows, Killian Jones is certainly the last person to deserve any pity.

\------

Killian had been back with his family maybe five weeks, and Lady Misthaven’s guests at her estate almost two weeks, when a small ball is hosted at Misthaven Manor in her guests’ honor. He’s been dreading the entire affair, frankly – not only will he have to watch the woman he once had the honor to call _his_ sweep around the room with other men, but he’ll be confined to the sidelines for much of the night. Once, in his youth – oh, how ridiculous it is, to declare that his youth has expired at only 29 – he had been an avid dancer, and a fine one at that. Some of his most treasured memories involve dancing with Emma, usually closer than propriety’s dictates would condone. Now, his leg leaves him clumsy and unwieldy, no longer moving as quickly or as gracefully as the ballroom demands. On a good day, he might lead Belle in a turn around the music room back home, but at such a public event, he’ll confine himself to the walls, perhaps hole up in the library, in an effort not to make a total fool of himself.

\------

_He spots her for the second time in a crowded ballroom._

_She’s there with her family, and while he wasn’t necessarily looking for her when he entered the room, Killian’s eyes are drawn to her like a moth to a flame._

_They’ve never exchanged words, their interaction limited to that shared secret in a crowded museum gallery, but her hair is like sunshine and her laugh as her partner leads her in a circle is like the sweetest music, and Killian wants nothing more than to meet her and learn her name (and maybe everything else about her)._

_As the song ends and his mystery lady executes a final curtsey to her partner, Killian makes his way across the room, determined to secure a dance with this blonde-haired siren._

_And the rest, as they say, is history._

\------

Belle is kind enough to sit with him for part of the night. She likely has the motive of continuing to avoid Scarlet’s poor attempts at wooing, but still. It’s very kind of his little sister. Unfortunately, this whole dance could still prove to be his undoing, since – as ever – he’s entirely unable to take his eyes off their hostess. He’s so painfully aware that he’s lost any right to his admiration of Emma, from up close or afar, but the fact remains. Emma remains a beacon of joy and grace to be enjoyed by everyone but himself. It’s inevitable, really; Belle would have to be blind not to notice his distraction, the way his eyes follow her around the room.

“Is she any different from before?” his sister asks. “Or is Emma just the same as when you knew her, years ago?”

It’s a difficult question, in truth, and he has to take a moment to think before he’s able to answer with any semblance of honesty. “In some ways, she hasn’t changed a bit,” he replies slowly. “But in others…” he trails off.

“Others?” Belle prompts.

He still pauses a moment longer, trying to find a delicate way to phrase what’s on his mind, and failing entirely. “In other ways, she is so vastly different from the young woman I knew, that except for her familiar face, I might not have recognized her.”

It’s the truth. It isn’t pretty, it isn’t nice, but it’s the truth. There’s more to that truth, but it’s a detail that rests heavy in his gut, too shameful to voice.

_And it’s all my fault._

\------

_I might not have recognized her?_

He undoubtedly didn’t mean for her to hear those words, but Emma had been passing by at precisely the right moment as he and Belle had been absorbed in conversation, too distracted to notice her, and Emma had overheard all the same.

It’s infuriating, really. He’s in no position to be making comments like that. If anything, he’s the reason that the only recognizable feature from that naïve girl, eight and a half years ago, is her face. If she’s changed in that time, it’s absolutely and completely his fault.

Later, she’ll find Regina to gripe and complain and commiserate with, maybe seek out Mary Margaret for her special brand of motherly comfort. But right in this moment, Emma is itching to do something, to make a statement. Whatever hostess duties she had been leaving to attend to are the furthest thing from her mind. Emma isn’t naturally the cold, distant woman Killian must think she’s turned into – she reserves that treatment just for him.

So she turns to the next passing man she sees – a recent visitor to the area, a Mr. Booth, she thinks – and turns on the charm, angling for a dance. Naturally, it works, and as Mr. Booth leads her out on the floor, she can’t help but glance back at Killian, still sitting forlornly at the side of the room, alone now that Liam had claimed Belle for a dance. But then her partner asks her a question, and she allows her attention to once again be diverted.

To hell with whatever Killian Jones thinks. Emma can be that light and carefree girl again.

And if he’s forced to watch her, smiling for another man? All the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that that's posted, I can official call this a multi-chap fic! Whoop!
> 
> Thank you for your wonderful comments and all the kudos love - I legit get jittery with excitement when I see y'all said something nice.
> 
> Please keep letting me know what you think - feedback can only make this better. I'm not sold on this flashback business I started, so defs let me know if you thought that was nice.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and I hope chapter 2 lived up to chapter 1!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, the large italicized chunk is a flashback. Enjoy!

Mr. August Booth becomes a frequent presence at Misthaven, and Killian Does Not Like It.

It’s more than just jealousy – though he’s certain that’s playing a role (regardless of whether he has any right to those feeling). Beyond that, though, he finds Booth to be a slippery sort of fellow. He’s suave, for certain, but the sincerity is lacking, like his smooth façade is just that. He’s supposedly in town to visit a friend, and claims to be a writer, but Killian has never heard of him. Emma is brilliant, and the greatest of treasures, but literature has never particularly been her passion. Where she might have written his unknown name off as unfamiliarity with the genre, Killian is more suspicious.

\------

_Killian stumbles across Miss Swan in the library one evening at a house party, mysteriously without book in hand._

_He’s willing to admit, only a few weeks in, that his heart has well and truly been stolen by this blonde angel, but they’re still in the tentative stages of his wooing, still carefully trying to learn about one another. Still, it’s the most pleasant surprise to see her here, and if the way she smiles at him is any indication, she feels much the same._

_Careful to leave the library door open, he enters the room. After polite greetings are exchanged, he summons the courage pose a bold, “May I ask what you’re doing here in the library, Miss Swan?” At the very least, it feels very bold._

_She, of course, grins right at him – no demure smiles for his ray of sunshine. “Why, I’m hiding, Lieutenant Jones.”_

_It’s precisely the last thing he expected, and his face must show it, for she breaks into her loud, cheerful, not-quite-proper laugh. “There’s apparently the son of a Duke in attendance tonight, and my aunt is quite determined to throw at least one of us into his path. I, similarly, am determined to avoid him at all costs. Thus, the library.”_

_He can’t help but return her smile with a chuckle of his own. “Well, I certainly can’t argue with that. Might I, instead, interest you in a poetry reading?”_

_“Why certainly, Lieutenant – but only if you’ll be content with knowing that I haven’t understood the vast majority of most of the verses.”_

_\------_

Emma readily welcomes Mr. Booth’s unexpected attentions.

She’s not suffering under any delusions of romance – her heart has been broken too thoroughly for that to be possible. But watching all the happy families around her has spurred an unexpected longing for that in her own life, and she could certainly do worse than Mr. Booth. Emma is no fool; she knows she’s much closer to “I want to marry you because my swarm of children need a mother” age than “I want to marry you because you’re beautiful and young and accomplished” age. Mr. Booth is charming, handsome, and intelligent; as Countess in her own right, Emma has the freedom to marry anyone she likes, without concern for wealth or title, and Mr. Booth, budding writer, is currently a reasonable contender, seemingly willing to overlook her age in favor of her personality.

(If there’s any thoughts of anyone else who might be a contender for her hand and heart – perhaps a man who once was granted the honor of possessing both – then she’s careful to push them to the back of her mind, far away from any temptation to act.)

Mr. Booth claims to be an author of poetry, through Emma wouldn’t really know. She reads, for certain, but her taste leans less towards those works sanctioned for discussion in proper society – moralists, philosophers, and sometimes poets – and more towards silly novels. Regardless, he’s full of witty comments, and Emma finds herself looking forward to his visits.

Mary Margaret is practically giddy that Emma has a “gentleman caller”. Something about finding the love of her own life has put Mary Margaret on some sort of romantic warpath, with Emma her most frequent target. A little part of Emma is tempted to ignore Mr. Booth’s advances for just that reason – a smug Mary Margaret is never pleasant – but really, her cousin is right. Emma has spent enough time “wallowing in her loneliness” (to borrow a phrase from Mrs. Nolan); it’s about time she puts herself back out there and _enjoys_ herself, for once.

So she lets Mr. Booth lead her on countryside walks and dance with her at local events, and thinks that maybe one day, she’ll be able to muster feelings for him that are more than just platonic.

\------

He watches the two of them together, sometimes.

If Killian ignores the fact that he doesn’t quite trust Booth, he’ll admit that the man is very much attentive towards Emma. There may be an ulterior motive there that Killian isn’t yet aware of, but in the meantime, he makes her smile. Booth is certainly full of wit, and has that playful, mischievous glint in his eye that Killian once recognized in Emma’s own gaze. The man’s behavior towards Emma is not, by any stretch of the imagination, why Killian doesn’t trust him.

No, his entire objection to the budding attachment is that they know next to nothing about this young man, who had seemingly appeared out of midair. Killian would feel slightly better if the man had some kind of relative in the area, a way to maybe piece together a picture of the man’s character based on the basis of how his relations are regarded by the local populace. Instead, Booth is visiting as the guest of a man who is himself new to the area, only renting a local property for a time. The reality is that, for all his pretty words, no one has any knowledge of his past, and they’re all forced to take his word on what his present circumstances are like. Killian can’t even confirm that the man is a writer. He could probably write to former friends and connections in London, see if they know anything, but it seems terribly intrusive, especially considering Killian has no concrete reason to suspect the man – just a gut feeling that has led him wrong before. He almost talks himself into it a few times, or at least nearly works up the nerve to confront Booth about his character and intentions –

– but then Emma laughs, that full belly laugh he hasn’t heard in _years_ , and he sets it all aside in favor of letting the woman he may still love, if he’s ever brave enough to admit it, be happy.

In the meantime, he’ll keep a careful watch, just to make sure that Booth is the gentleman he claims to be.

\------

She watches Killian, sometimes, when no one is looking.

Emma’s the last person to pity Killian, after all he’s done, but she can’t help but think he must be lonely. Elsa has Liam, her steady rock, who always looks at her with a soft affection Emma envies; Anna has her Mr. Erikson, with his endless patience for her enthusiastic chattering (honestly, if those two aren’t engaged by the end of the month, Emma will eat her hat); Belle might even have Mr. Scarlet, having finally started to warm up to the man after discovering him reorganizing the Arendelle library by topic and author in a fit of boredom. Even Emma herself is now constantly surrounded with her noisy, loving family, and is now recently the recipient of Mr. Booth’s attentions as well. Killian, however, is so often by himself – like an interloper, on the outside looking in. He spends a lot of time reading, and a lot of time observing the rest of the room’s interactions, and only occasionally contributes to larger group conversations. He’s constantly surrounded by a large, rambunctious group of people, but by and large, he’s on his own, left to keep his own company.

There’s a bitter part of Emma that hates to admit it, but she feels a little bad for him. Her life clearly hadn’t turned out the way she might have hoped when she was young, but he obviously isn’t living any dream either. Isn’t it sad, what kind of people one decision, made eight and a half years prior, has made them into.

\------

He finds her in the library again, appropriately enough.

The male portion of their party had departed on a hunting party, so Killian has been left with the ladies for the afternoon. Which would be fine. But the ladies are swapping gossip and talking about the latest fashions in Town and Emma had excused herself nearly an hour ago, begging estate matters, so there’s really nothing left to hold his attention.

He’d truly come to the library with the intention of finding a book to read, no ulterior motives. It’s simply a happy coincidence – at least for one of them – that he finds her there, clambering around on a ladder, searching for something.

He’s determined to be a gentleman, he really is. But she only gives him a dry look when he offers a quiet “May I be of assistance, my lady?”

Really, that look should have said enough, but his Emma was never one for holding her tongue. “Frankly, Captain, I reckon it will be just as easy, if not easier, for me to climb the ladder as it will you.”

It hurts to hear, a little, but she’s right. If he had to excuse himself from a country walk a week prior on account of his leg, scaling a questionably study ladder is out of the question. All the same, he’ll never stop trying to aid the lady of his heart, regardless of any personal physical discomfort.

It does, however, feel like a small victory when she tempers her response slightly with an added, “I reckon I’ve seen the location of this particular land use treatise far more recently than you anyways.” It’s the best and kindest he can realistically hope for, under the circumstances.

Really, he should stop there. He should find himself a book, bid a polite farewell, and return to the sitting room – to safer ground. But looking back on his life, Killian has very rarely been known for making the safe choice, the wise choice, so instead, his mind turns towards less prudent, more dangerous options.

Talking directly to Booth has been ruled out, many times over. However, talking with Emma hasn’t. It’s a riskier option, to be sure, but potentially more rewarding – particularly if Emma takes it upon herself to investigate the man herself. And after all, they were good at talking, once – even disregarding their current awkwardness, she’ll be easier to speak with than a man who is practically still a stranger.

Still, he tries to approach the matter delicately, lead up to it, if you will. “I trust that everything is well with the estate?”

She barely affords him an affirmative hum, but he plows on all the same. It’s foolhardy, for certain, but he truly has her best interests at heart. At least he thinks he does.

“And yourself? You’re well? I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Mr. Booth.”

And there it is. Both the words and her sudden, icy countenance. Any toleration he might have garnered over weeks of his best behavior are lost in a moment.

“Not that it’s any of your business, sir, but yes I have. I find him quite agreeable company – so much more pleasant than many I’ve met.”

It’s clearly a dig at Killian, but he’s too far in to truly back out now. All he can do is try and regulate his tone for his final, most important statement. “I beg you to be careful, my lady. I don’t think any of us know enough about Mr. Booth to form an accurate opinion of his character.” He pauses here. His next words could backfire terribly, but they’re the strongest truth he currently possesses. “I’d hate for you to be hurt.”

The glare she directs at him could cut ice, and he knows he’s irreversibly overstepped. Oh well. If it’s in pursuit of looking after her, he’ll accept that. “If I’ve been hurt, Captain, then it was many years past. Not at the hands of a man I don’t yet know well enough for that to be a concern.” She seemingly finds whatever she was looking for, climbing down the ladder again with a volume in hand. “If you have nothing else to say, I’ll leave you to your search. Good day, Captain.”

With that, she sweeps out of the room, leaving his heart dropping to the floor.

\------

Oh! The nerve of that man!

It’s true, she truly doesn’t know that much about Mr. Booth, but he’s given her no reasons to doubt his attentions, unlike Killian. Regardless, it is none of his business who she pays her attentions towards – not anymore.

The irony is that she truly doesn’t feel that much for Mr. Booth. Given a few more weeks, she might have let the acquaintance die a natural death. She’s tried, she really has, but any tender feelings towards Mr. Booth have still failed to materialize. Unfortunately for Captain Jones, she also has an immense stubborn steak, one he really ought to know about already. So instead, she fully intends to continue this attachment, however ill-advised it may or may not be.

If this is what she has to do to prove to Captain once and for all that he has earned no special say in how she lives her life, then this path is exactly the one she intends to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back. Sorry if anyone objects to August's presence - I needed a Musgrove.
> 
> You are all truly Too Good to me, with the lovely comments. Thank you so much! Keep it up - I treasure each and every one.
> 
> Hopefully I can get the next chapter up around Wednesday - there's a Thing living in my attic and freaking me the fuck out, which has slowed down the writing process, but I'm doing my best.
> 
> I hope this continues to live up to your excitement!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, the italicized chunk is a flashback. Enjoy!

Miss Anna Frost and former naval lieutenant Kristoff Erikson become engaged on a sunny Thursday afternoon.

The whole matter is not unexpected. The young lovers had embarked on something of a whirlwind romance, and the entire house had been swapping guesses about when they could expect an announcement.

Anna is radiant, as all young women in love ought to be. Killian even finds the patience within himself to sit in the parlor and listen to her recounting of the event, over and over again.

“It was so romantic!” Anna gushes. “We were walking in the garden like we so often do, and he just dropped to a knee all of a sudden! I don’t know that he had really planned to propose that afternoon, but oh, he cut such a picture, in his smart coat! So confident – so manly!”

Killian wants to laugh at her description. As a man who had undertaken a proposal of his own, the last thing he felt was confident – a feeling he’s sure Liam, Nolan, and now Erikson all share.

\------

_His proposal is planned down to the smallest detail – at least in theory. Killian will escort Emma to the local park for a stroll along the promenade, and when he’s in the perfect spot – a secluded grove of flowering shrubs overlooking a tranquil pond – he’ll take her hand in his own, deliver a carefully rehearsed speech, and request the honor of her hand in marriage. Simple._

_Of course, that plan is only perfect in theory. In all his planning, Killian somehow forgets that their walk would necessarily be accompanied by a chaperone – in today’s case, her cousin, Mary Margaret. Of all their chaperone options, Miss Blanchard is probably the best-case scenario; a young woman with a romantic streak the size of London, she’ll at least give the two of them some space to speak privately. Even more disastrous for his plans, as they get closer and closer to his planned spot, Killian gets increasingly nervous. He adores Emma, loves her with every piece of his soul, but what if she doesn’t feel as strongly? What if she says no?_

_His increasing panic must show in his face, because Emma pulls him off the main path into a quiet cluster of shrubs for a moment, concern all over her own countenance. “Killian, are you quite alright? You’re not ill, are you? You’re making me nervous.”_

_He takes a deep breath. Showtime. Miss Blanchard must know something is afoot, as she respectfully gives them some distance, out of earshot yet still within her sightline. “I’d actually like to speak with you, Emma.”_

_She looks nervous – lord, probably just as nervous as he is – but nods all the same for him to continue._

_His planned speech has entirely left his head at this point, but he plows on, nevertheless. “Emma, meeting you… you’ve invaded every moment and aspect of my life. You’re constantly on my mind – your smile, your laugh, your boldness and your witty teasing… I truly can’t imagine a day without you in it any more. And I think – well, I hope – well, I don’t know – maybe you feel the same?” And oh, this is embarrassing, he’s tripping over his words again like some awkward young lad. “This isn’t how I planned it at all, and you deserve an awful lot more than I can offer, but I hope – well, I want to spend the rest of my days giving you the world, absolutely everything your heart ever desires. If you’re amenable. Are you amenable?”_

_He’d be frustrated if he wasn’t so nervous (and didn’t love her so much), because Emma just stands there, smiling that damnable wide, bold smile that could really mean anything, from an affirmative answer to flat-out laughing in his face._

_“Killian,” she interrupts his whirling, anxious thoughts, “are you trying to ask me to marry you?”_

_And oh, he never said the words, did he? He really ought to say the words. But truly, all he can manage is a nervous nod of the head._

_He hadn’t thought it possible, but her smile gets even wider, spurring a mirrored response on his own face. “Oh, Killian, yes, I’d love nothing more. I love you – more than I ever thought one person could love another. I’d like nothing more than to be your wife.”_

_He wants to do so many things – kiss her senseless and lift her off the ground and all manner of other actions – but they’re still in public, so he’s forced to regulate his response. They’ll have time for that later – maybe after he officially speaks with her uncle. But for now, he takes her hands, and settles for pressing a series of elated kisses to their backs, their palms, their wrists._

_He enters the park a nervous man, but leaves as the future husband to the most wonderful woman in creation._

\------

Beyond just the sudden need to plan the most idyllic wedding even romantic Anna could imagine, the new engagement highlights other issues that need to be addressed. Lieutenant Erikson is a wonderful man, kind and patient with a groundedness that complements Anna’s own enthusiasm and tendency to jump head-first into things without looking first. However, he is also a man without any permanent lodgings or employment, due to the recent ceasing of incivilities between England and France. The best plan Liam and Killian are able to devise is to take Kristoff on as a member of the Jones company. One of the ship captains in their employ, mostly making quick jaunts to the continent, has been speaking of retiring soon. Killian himself can attest to the Lieutenant’s skill in handling a ship and its crew; those weeks while he was recovering from the damage to his leg, Erikson had been made the acting captain, and had performed the job admirably. He’d be an excellent candidate, a natural choice, to fill the new vacancy, and giving him the position would ensure Anna is taken care of.

It’s a good plan – one Kristoff eagerly accepts. That’s a relief, really – Anna is a sweet girl, and deserves to be looked after in the best possible way, be that emotionally or financially. After Erikson accepts their proposal, it’s just a matter of arranging matters, making a trip down to their shipping outpost in Brighton to settle things with their outgoing employee, and searching for a house for the young couple to let after their marriage.

Killian’s relieved, in many ways, to be leaving for the shore; not only is the sea calming for him, the one constant in his life these past years, but the sojourn will give him a chance to distance himself from a certain enchanting woman no longer meant for him.

It’s settled, then; the ladies intend to take care of some pre-wedding shopping, the gentlemen intend to address the business matters, and Scarlet is along for a laugh (not to mention the chance to continue developing his tentative relationship with Belle), and so the entire Arendelle party prepares for a trip to the shore.

\------

Everyone at Misthaven is thrilled to hear about the engagement between Miss Frost and Lieutenant Erikson. Emma thinks Mary Margaret may have even teared up a little.

(“I just love a good whirlwind romance,” she tries to explain, “don’t you?”)

Anna has never been known for her reserve, but company is now filled every day with laughter and excited chatter about flower arrangements and wedding breakfast menus. Emma follows along with the developments about Mr. Erikson’s upcoming position in the Jones’ company with no small amount of admiration. It’s brilliant, really, and a lovely gesture; neither brother strictly has to arrange for employment for Mr. Erikson. But clearly, they very much care for their sister-in-law, despite lack of blood relation, and want to take care of her in whatever way they can.

Anna, in all her youthful enthusiasm, is naturally thrilled about her upcoming trip to Brighton. Emma is less so, when she hears the younger woman’s devious plans.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely if you all came to the shore as well?” she broaches one afternoon, and Emma can already see what’s coming a mile away. “I’ve just got so much shopping to take care of, and I do so want your opinions every step of the way. And you’re simply the picture of elegance, Regina – I reckon you’d be such a help, what with your knowledge of the latest styles in London.”

Curse Regina, sitting there and looking pensive instead of straight-out shutting down Anna’s pleading. Doesn’t she know that Emma is _happy_ on her estate? That she’s simply excited for a hiatus from Captain Jones’ presence, and doesn’t need some silly trip to the shore? But no, Regina actually has to take this proposal seriously, give it real thought. “You know, the late Viscount’s father did procure a house in Brighton – I think his wife liked the spas, if I’m remembering correctly. And Henry would so love to see the ocean…”

It’s like watching some sort of disaster in slow motion. Regina is clearly a lost cause, now, but any hopes Emma might sway Mary Margaret to her side are crushed in a moment, when her cousin pipes in with an excited “Oh! I’m sure my boys would as well! They’ve never been you know.”

Emma does know that she could stay home – Regina and the Nolans adjourning to the sea shore doesn’t mean she has to. But as much as she’s anxious for Captain Jones to depart with his family, she still doesn’t want to be _alone_. She’s spent too many months and years that way. Emma’s family is here now, and her friends – she fully intends to enjoy their presence for as long as possible.

And so, reluctantly, Emma Swan finds herself agreeing to a short trip to Brighton. God help her.

\------

Emma ends up sharing a carriage to Brighton with Regina and Henry, which is probably the best-case scenario. Emma loves Mary Margaret, she really does, but the woman could talk the hind leg off a horse, and Emma’s not sure she could have spent the hours-long in a confined space with her cousin interrogating her about all matters of her romantic future – or lack thereof. In an ideal world, Emma would have wanted to travel with Elsa and Belle, but the entire Arendelle party had departed two days prior.

It’s not that bad, really – Henry, as ever, is thrilled to be on a new adventure, finding something new that Auntie Emma and Mama positively _have_ to see, which makes for a cheerful journey, if nothing else. But Emma’s still ticked that she’s on her way to Brighton, somewhat against her will, and it shows.

“Are you still mad at me about all this?” Regina finally cuts in. “You didn’t have to come with us, you know. It was your decision.”

Emma sighs. “I know, I know. I just didn’t want to be alone at Misthaven.”

“Excellent. Then you can stop holding this against me.”

It’s quiet again for several minutes, and Emma thinks that’s that. She and Regina have had much worse blow ups over the years; they can handle a quiet carriage ride.

But eventually, Regina huffs and turns back to Emma. “You do understand why I’m going, don’t you? Henry was so excited when I told him we were going to go see the ocean. I just want to give him the world. If you don’t understand now, you will later, when you have your own children.”

Emma can’t help but give her cousin a skeptical look. “I’m not sure that’s in my future, Regina.”

If Emma looks skeptical, then the look Regina gives her in return is fully sarcastic and perhaps a little fed up. “Oh please, Emma. You act like some dowdy spinster, but you’re still young and eligible. You’ve got a title and an estate all your own, for Christ sakes! If the men aren’t swarming you, it’s only because you scare them in a way they’ll never want to admit in public. You already have one man paying you his attentions, and another casting yearning looks from afar; it’s a little ridiculous to think that you’ll never have a family of your own with two men already still trailing at your heels.”

“Yes, perhaps, but Mr. Booth is… Mr. Booth is perfectly handsome, and charming, and interesting, but he’s so… I can’t describe it. I just don’t feel anything romantic towards him. He’s relatively good company, but I’m not sure that I want that company for the rest of my life.”

“Contrary to whatever Mary Margaret might say, you don’t need to be madly in love with someone to marry them and have children with them and be content.”

As much as Emma hates to admit it, Regina has a point – she married someone she didn’t particularly know, let alone have tender feelings for, and in return has a wonderful son and a life she’s happy with. As for Emma, however… “I likely could accept marrying someone I don’t love, but I find that I don’t particularly want to. I know you haven’t experienced it, Regina, but hopefully one day you’ll meet someone, fall desperately in love, and be adored in return. It’s the most wonderful feeling. Can you blame me for not wanting to settle for anything else, after grasping that feeling, even for a moment?”

“In that case, what about Captain Jones? I know we’re all set on hating the man right now, but you must admit, Emma, it’s so obvious that the man thinks you shine brighter than all the stars, even when you’re dead set on ignoring him. It’s something to keep in mind, if nothing else.”

“Even if I do see that – and you’re right, I’d have to be blind not to – do you think I can trust him again? He _left_ , Regina. I was ready to start a life with him, and damn the consequences – consequences that would have affected me far more than him, by the way – and he made the decision for both of us. I’m still working on simply forgiving him – I don’t know that I can ever trust him again. It’s…” she pauses. “I know you just want me to be happy, Regina, and for me not to be alone anymore, but I think that ship has long since sailed. And I don’t think either man can truly be the kind of person I need.”

“Fine then. Neither one. But will you truly be happy, alone in your massive house, for the rest of your life? Mary Margaret and I can’t stay with you forever, we’ve got our own homes and responsibilities.”

That’s the hardest things to come to terms with. Emma doesn’t want to be alone – she wants a husband and a small army of children and laughter and _life_ , instead of the cold, silent hallways she’ll face again when her cousins leave. She doesn’t want to settle, either. She hates to admit it out loud, but she secretly wants that devoted love Mary Margaret and David share. Once, she thought that was in her grasp, but she was proved wrong, and left on her own ever since. At the same time, regardless of whatever Regina might say, she knows she’s past her prime. Emma has Seasons in London without any attention from young men in the forefront of her memory to prove it. If she wants that family she yearns for, Emma will likely have to accept a partner that isn’t everything she dreams about.

There’s no good answer to Regina’s question, so instead, Emma offers a shrug and a quick change of the subject back to their trip. “Well, Mr. Booth won’t be in Brighton anyways. And I’m sure we’ll hardly see Captain Jones at all, what with all the shopping Anna has planned for us! Now, tell me more about this house you have for us to stay in…”

If nothing else, their discussion has left Emma with much to think on. If her life continues on the path she’s currently on, she may one day have to sacrifice her dreams of love for her dreams of family. And she’s not yet sure how to reconcile herself to that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up a day earlier than anticipated, and at a decent hour, at that! I know precisely what needs to happen in the next 2-3 chapters, so get ready. I'm psyched to write it, and I hope you're still psyched to read it.
> 
> I love getting kudos and comments - there may or may not be a folder on my desktop devoted to nice things y'all say. By all means, please keep telling me what you like and don't like!
> 
> Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chunk in italics is a flashback, as per usual. Enjoy!

Things in Brighton go so smoothly, Killian almost feels he’s enjoying a holiday rather than visiting on a business matter.

Though the carriage ride is long, he spends it in company with Scarlet and Erikson, teaming up with the former to tease the latter about his upcoming venture into matrimony. After settling in, he and Liam meet with their soon-to-be former employee to discuss the terms of his departure. As it turns out, Liam had been having a bit of a laugh when he said the man was looking to “retire”. Loxley is still a man in his prime, somewhere between Killian and his brother in age, who only wants to give up his current position due to his status as a widower with a young son. It’s determined, instead, that he’ll shift into a position with their London warehouses, making sure inventory arrives on time and in good, saleable condition, after completing a final short voyage for the Jones brothers.

After that, it’s simply a matter of finding what properties in town are for sale, and helping Erikson select a permanent home for himself and Anna from those options. Which, admittedly, takes some time, but with the ladies occupied with shopping and the other diversions of Brighton, they’re in no desperate rush.

It’s good to feel like he’s accomplishing something again. Killian has loved the chance to reconnect with his family, but he spent years in active employment as a naval captain, and the more sedentary life he’s been experiencing in the country is hard to adjust to. In the quiet at Arendelle, he’s frequently been forced to retreat into his thoughts, whether by reflecting on the past or berating himself about the present – a problem exacerbated by Emma’s near constant presence. But here, in Brighton, there’s too much to do to allow frequent indulgence in his thoughts.

With those quiet moments he does have, he takes to walking down to the shore alone just to take in the sight of the ocean. He’s loved the sea since he was a child, and has spent most of his adult life on the water. It’s difficult, now, to be landlocked in the home of his brother and sister-in-law. Going down to the shore, just to gaze at the horizon, is like reconnecting with an old friend he hadn’t realized how much he missed.

\------

_“Tell me about the other woman in your life,” Emma demands out of the blue one day as they walk arm in arm, sending Killian into a sudden panic. Because there’s no one else. Never has been, likely never will be. What in the world could she mean? God, he’s not about to lose her because of some awful rumor, is he?_

_“Miss Swan… Emma, love, surely you must know, I have eyes for none but you. You’re the only lady in my life… well except for Belle, but she’s my sister so don’t I really think that counts, we’re related after –“_

_Emma cuts him off with her laughter. And don’t mistake him; he loves her laughter. But it’s somewhat more disconcerting a sound when he doesn’t know why she’s laughing._

_“No, Lieutenant,” she cuts in, her eyes sparkling. “I meant the sea. Isn’t there a saying about how a sailor’s first love is the sea?”_

_He can’t help but blush. Oh lord, did he ever skip straight to assuming the worst. “Aye, I suppose that’s true.”_

_There’s a heavy pause, before Emma bursts in again. No one has ever accused that woman of excessive patience. “Well? What is the ocean like? I’ve never been.”_

_“Never? Not even when you were small?”_

_“Never. Quit stalling, Lieutenant.”_

_He has to take a moment to think. She’s right, really – until he met Emma, the sea was the great love of his life. It’s hard to describe that succinctly. “The sea is… the sea is often temperamental, and unpredictable, not unlike a certain lady of my acquaintance.” He sends a quick wink her way, reveling in the way Emma blushes and rolls her eyes. “But there are also these beautiful moments – calm days where the waves just lap the sides of the boat, and where the water reflects the most beautiful colors off the sky. The sea’s a powerful lady, to be sure, but every day is something of an adventure, since you never know what mood she’ll be in. Does that make sense at all?”_

_Emma gives a decisive nod. “It does.” They walk along in a companionable for a while, before Emma interjects one last thought upon the subject. “I think I should very much like to see the ocean one day, then.”_

_She says it so matter-of-factly – a statement that, because she wishes it, must eventually come to fruition. All he can do is smile indulgently, and offer in return, “Then we shall go together, someday.” It’s more than just words to him – it’s a promise._

_If it will make her happy, he’ll promise her the entire ocean._

\------

He realizes suddenly, and with no small sadness, that he has no idea whether Emma ever made it to the shore in the nearly nine years since he made her that promise.

It’s by chance that he sees her one day. He and the other gentlemen are walking along the boulevard that runs past the shore, taking the scenic route to a townhouse Liam thought might suit the young lovebirds, when Killian spots the ladies down on the beach with Henry and the Nolan boys. Henry, of course, is dashing in and out of the tide, shrieking like a banshee, just like the fearless lad he is. The Nolan boys seem more wary of the cold water – true landlubbers that they are. Lady Storybrooke stands off to the side, supervising while seemingly trying to prove to the world that she’s above this frivolity, but the rest of the ladies all are experiencing the ocean in their own way. Mrs. Nolan is mostly focused on trying to coax her sons into the surf, but Anna is skipping in and out of the waves like some crazed fish, trying to pull her more reserved sister along with her. He even spots Belle, laughing as she tries to dodge the huge splashes Henry and Anna are creating.

Inevitably, though, Killian’s eye is drawn to Emma – always to Emma. She stands slightly apart from the other ladies, skirts drawn up to her calves with her shoes and stockings abandoned on the shore, letting the sea lap around her ankles. Unlike the noise and chaos happening to her left, Emma stands quietly, watching the waves and horizon with an expression of almost child-like glee on her face. It’s an expression largely absent from her face since their re-acquaintance – in fact, in can’t remember seeing it once. It’s nice to see the reappearance of that joy and wonder, if only for a second.

Eventually, the rest of the men notice the ladies’ nearby presence, but for a few short moments, Killian is honored to watch Emma enjoy the sea – just like he promised her so long ago.

\------

Despite her initial misgivings, Emma finds herself really enjoying their sojourn to Brighton. Ostensibly, they’re here to help Anna with whatever shopping she needs before her wedding. And they do end up accomplishing quite a bit – personally, Emma thinks they’ve purchased enough to outfit a small army, rather than a small (but excited) bride-to-be. All productivity aside, Emma feels more like she’s on some sort of holiday. She loves her home, she really does, but there’s only so much to do, and the nearest town of Bramton is too small to provide much more by way of distraction than a single tavern, a poorly stocked bookseller, and a seamstress who means well. Here in town, there’s concerts and new people and the spas. Even the shopping is tolerable, when presented with a variety of store options and seamstresses more familiar with the latest styles from London. As an added bonus, the ladies keep her so occupied that she is rarely in Killian’s company, and barely has a moment to dwell on however she might feel towards him.

Of course, in true Emma Swan fashion, the good can’t last. She passes five perfectly lovely days in Brighton, away from Mr. Booth and largely separated from Captain Jones, before the former takes it upon himself to follow them to the shore.

Mary Margaret is ecstatic, of course. She can’t fathom that such an action could be seen as anything but the most romantic gesture – can’t fathom that Emma would instead find it stifling and unwelcome.

Maybe a week ago, Emma would thought differently, would have – well, maybe not welcomed his presence enthusiastically, but at least been receptive to it. Unfortunately for Mr. Booth, his sudden presence only highlights to Emma how much she _didn’t_ think of him in his absence. In fact, she’s prepared to swear that she paid him no more than a passing thought since her and Regina’s conversation in the carriage. Paired with his sudden reappearance – without invitation, she might add, and really, who takes it upon themselves to do that? – Emma is truly more irritated than pleased to see him. Put out, if you will. And she had been having such a nice vacation too.

But she wasn’t raised to show it, so she sends him smiles that only look slightly forced when he comes to call in the afternoons or they’re thrown together at functions.

\------

Upon learning of Booth’s unexpected presence, Killian wants to be happy for Emma. He really does. It should be something to be pleased about – the young lover so swept by emotion that he can’t help but follow his lady wherever she might lead. But Killian can’t help but notice that Emma seems more put out by Booth’s presence than anything else. And really, the whole thing just seems rather odd. It isn’t as if either family invited the man to meet them in Brighton, as far as Killian knows; he just showed up. Maybe Killian would have been able to look past the strangeness of the situation, until Scarlet inadvertently fuels his distrust.

“That Booth fellow is sorta odd, isn’t he?” Scarlet offers out of nowhere one afternoon.

“How do you mean?” It’s not that Killian disagrees, but if he’s going to have someone seeing things from his point of view, he’d like to know why.

“It’s just… he’s here at the inn with Erikson and I, right? And I certainly thought we were on decent terms. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but whenever he’s over at Misthaven or Arendelle trying to woo the Lady Misthaven, we’ve gotten on fine. But he barely talks to us here, except if we’re in company with the ladies! Erikson and I keep offering to go to the shore or see the town or have dinner or whatnot with him, and he always refuses. Hasn’t accepted once.”

As much as it pains him, Killian tries to give Booth the benefit of the doubt. “Maybe he’s just uncomfortable with people he doesn’t know well. Not everyone has your natural charm, Scarlet.”

But Scarlet still looks skeptical. “Maybe. It just seems weird, though. There’s whole chunks of time, mostly at night, where he’s off God only knows where. And Erikson and I are just left guessing where he’s disappearing to. I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, it just seems suspicious. Erikson thinks so too, he’s just too nice to say anything.”

Killian tries not to feel too vindicated, but damn, it’s hard. After being frozen out by Emma after expressing his doubts about the man, it’s nice to hear from someone else that they’re similarly wary.

It doesn’t change anything. Emma still doesn’t welcome his company. Booth still follows her around. But Killian watches a little closer, just to make sure Booth never gets the chance to hurt her.

\------

Both the male and female contingents of the party are engaging in a scenic stroll along the shoreline, exploring the stone seawall, when Elsa sidles up to Emma without warning. “Where’s your beau, Emma?”

Emma nearly groans. In truth, it’s been a relief that Booth is nowhere to be seen on this particular excursion. “I don’t know, Elsa, and I’m not sure I care.”

Elsa’s brows immediately furrow. “Is something the matter, Emma? I thought things were going so well, especially if you talk to Mrs. Nolan.”

“Well, Mary Margaret was wrong.”

The walk along in an awkward silence for a moment. Up ahead, Henry is running along the pier, performing some sort of acrobatics with the various railings and other bolted metal instruments found along the seawall, and Emma watches his antics as she tries to collect her thoughts. “Mary Margaret means well, I know, but I’m not nearly as attached to Mr. Booth as she’d like to believe. And don’t you think it’s odd, his presence here in Brighton? I barely informed him where we were going, and none of us extended him an invitation to join us. And yet, he’s here, in Regina’s parlor every afternoon that we’re not on the town, and leaves his card on the days we are. It’s so stifling, really. It must be some sort of miracle to get this one afternoon without his pestering.”

Elsa, to her credit, only nods understandingly. “In that case, why have you tolerated his attentions this long? I know you, Emma, you’re not the type to lead someone on.”

“I suppose I hoped I wouldn’t have to wind up alone if I tolerated his advances, regardless of whether I felt anything for the man. Especially after years of Mary Margaret’s speeches about the ‘power of true love’. I’ve spent so long claiming that I’m fine on my own, but I just had a moment of thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if I didn’t have to be?”

Elsa takes her own moment of silence before replying. “You know, I thought the same thing, before I met Liam. Thought that all of my chances were over, thought it would be Anna’s family that would be taking care of Arendelle. But then I met Liam – a complete chance really, he just bumped into me on the street in London.”

She pauses, and Emma assumes the story must be done. She’s about to say something – she’s not sure what, since she doesn’t see the point of Elsa’s little speech – when the other blonde continues. “My point is, Emma, that these things happen when you least expect it. Maybe you’ll meet someone, maybe you won’t, but I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Things will turn out how they’re meant to.”

It’s an entirely different kind of advice from what Regina gave, and something she’ll have to consider. But before she can mull it over, Henry catches her attention.

“Lookit, Auntie Emma!” he calls, and Emma looks over to see Henry nimbly hopping from massive hitch to massive hitch like a little mountain goat. The child inside Emma is laughing, loving Henry’s infectious energy, while her adult side is deeply concerned. But before she can call out a warning, the worst happens.

Henry slips as he jumps to the next hitch, and before anyone can move, he’s over the side and into the water.

\------

Killian hears Regina’s cry, whips his head around to see a glimpse of Henry’s coat in the water, and moves on instinct.

He’s always been a strong swimmer, unlike so many of his of his cohorts in the Navy. His leg may slow him down on land, but in the water, he’s just as fast and sleek as ever, thanks to the water’s buoyancy. Henry, unfortunately, clearly doesn’t know how to swim. And why would he? He’s not even five and entirely landlocked at his home. But now, as Killian sees the little boy struggle to break to the surface again, he’s sure everyone wishes that Henry had at least attempted a dip in a local pond.

He barely wrestles off his coat – one less thing to weigh him down, and a warm wrap for Henry if Killian can fish him out – before diving off the seawall. The water is shockingly cold, even for late autumn, and Killian feels like the frigid water immediately seeps into his very bones.

Spotting Henry is easy enough – despite slipping under the water, he’s still thrashing about, not yet having inhaled so much water as to fall unconscious – and Killian strokes over to the lad, gathering him into his hold and propelling them both to the surface. Henry’s hearty coughs upon breaking through the waves and into air again fuel a surge a relief Killian hadn’t previously been aware he was even capable of. But retrieving Henry is only half the battle. Holding the little boy close to his chest in a desperate attempt to force heat into the lad’s tiny battle, Killian kicks back, trying to find a way back to shore. While walking along the pier had afforded an excellent view, the rocky base offers no easy way back up to the main platform, save for a rickety ladder Killian doesn’t relish tackling with his leg and such precious cargo in his arms. Instead, he works his way back to the shore proper, as fast as he can. Henry is shivering in his arms, a good sign at least that he hasn’t gotten fatally chilled or slipped into shock, but it’s crucial that they get him warm, quickly.

The rest of the party meets him on the rocky shore, ready to pull the two out of the cold waters of the ocean. Killian breathes his own sigh of relief when Henry is bundled into his mother’s arms, the usually frosty woman nearly sobbing with relief, with the men’s coats bundled around his little body to try and warm him up and ward off the risk of a cold.

Killian has been in sea battles; he’s well acquainted with fear, both for himself and the men under his command. But somehow, this incident is all the more terrifying for the fact that it’s the life of a child that was in danger. Though he accepts a multitude of thanks for his actions – including a tearful expression of gratitude from Mrs. Nolan and even a kind, grateful word from Emma – the knowledge that Henry is once again safe on dry land is reward enough. So instead, he bashfully slips back into his own coat and nods an acknowledgement to his family and friends (and tries desperately not to scratch behind his ear), all the while trying not to let on how chilled he himself has become.

\------

Arriving at the Storybrooke townhouse, the closest residence to the site of the accident, both victims of the sea are quickly bundled up into beds with the fires stoked to blazing. Fortunately, little Henry makes a quick recovery, seemingly with no ill effects.

Killian Jones does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Booth is sketchy and Killian is a hero. What else is new? Yes, Henry probably shouldn't walk out of all that just fine, but I just couldn't do that to him. Poor wee bab. So he gets to bounce back right away.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for reading, and I hope you liked it! I love hearing what you guys think - each and every comment and kudos warms my heart. By all means, keep it up!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, everyone! Mixing things up a bit here - today, italics denote Killian's dreams. Which are often rather flashback-y. But regardless. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s evident within the hour that Captain Jones has developed a cold.

He’s sniffling and sneezing and coughing and Regina, all past personal dislike aside, transforms into full mother-mode and insists that Killian stay in her home in one of the impractically large amount of bedrooms until he’s well enough to face the elements and be transported home.

So he’s bundled into bed and Regina makes sure some broth is sent up to help warm him up and it should all be fine. He’s in good hands, and this is pretty much the least they could have done after all he’s done for Henry.

It’s not that simple, though. All his symptoms keep up and he can’t stop shivering and what should have been a simple cold develops into a fever and that’s when everyone really starts to worry. Even Emma. (Especially Emma.)

\------

He’s so cold. So, so cold. Lady Storybrooke seems to have given him most of the blankets in the townhouse and he still just can’t get warm.

When he does finally warm up, it’s like he’s on fire. He sweats through his shirt and tosses off all but the thinnest sheet and it all must be terribly improper because Lady Storybrooke and Belle keep fussing over him while he’s in this less than total state of dress but he can’t muster the energy to care. Killian just wants to be cold again.

It’s back and forth like this, all afternoon. Killian can feel himself becoming progressively weaker and more tired and more lethargic but he can’t do anything about it. He knows it’s not a good sign, knows he should fight that tiredness and the developing fever it signifies. But he can’t find the energy to do so. So he slips into sleep with a sense of relief that he’ll get some proper rest.

That illusion doesn’t last long. Time is funny in his unconscious, feverish state, but it feels like mere minutes before a series of horrible dreams set in – perversions of his memories.

\-------

_The battle rages around him, and Killian immediately recognizes it as the skirmish that deprived him of his full mobility. He sees the cannonball flying towards the mast, just like before, but in an absurd slow-motion that allows him to track every moment of his impending injury. The iron ball finally makes contact with its target, shattering one of the Jewel’s masts and sending shrapnel flying everywhere, including straight into his leg. If memory serves, Killian should be rushing to assist one of his poor cabin boys, a lad of no more than fifteen, who lies bleeding on the deck with shards of the mast embedded into his stomach, where a falling crate should break his leg, the two injuries forever crippling him. But instead, he feels himself flying, as if from the force of a blast, straight over the rails of the deck and into the dangerous sea._

_And instead, Killian feels himself drowning, unable to kick with his injured leg and propel himself to the water’s surface and safety._

_\-------_

Since there’s no question of allowing Killian to leave, Regina kindly offers her last spare room to whomever wants to stay and care for him – an offer gratefully taken by Belle. It’s not that the others  aren’t just as concerned – Elsa and Anna and the rest are nearly mad with worry. But it seems right that Belle stays with him – she’s his sister by blood, his companion since childhood. Plus, it’s already been determined that Liam would be a positively useless nursemaid.

It’s interesting, watching Belle under these conditions. Emma knew her friend was a bit of a nurturer; she’s lost track of the times she’s seen Belle and Elsa tag-team in fretting over Anna’s antics. But watching her now is like seeing some kind of  super-nurse. Belle watches him like a hawk, reading to her brother and making snide asides like he’s actually listening. Periodically, she changes a cool, damp cloth on his brow and monitors him for any small moment of semi-consciousness so she can spoon broth down his throat.

Emma’s still worried about Killian, despite any other conflicting feelings she may have for the man. But she takes comfort in the knowledge that he’s in the best possible hands.

\------

_He’s walking down that path again, the day he proposed to Emma. Killian knows how this story goes, knows that it’s supposed to have a happy ending, but the trees look dark and ominous and the people passing by downright hostile. Worst of all, Emma looks bored, indifferent. Instead of pulling off to some secluded arbor, as in real life, she lets them just continue on, and he instead proposes in his intended location by the pond. But this time, as he stumbles over his words, she doesn’t find it endearing. Dream Emma laughs and laughs and laughs at him, her cousin joining in, all the sinister passers-by lending their jeers, as Emma sneers to his face._

_“Why in the world would I want to marry some nobody from nowhere, when I could have any man I want?”_

_\------_

Emma takes to periodically helping Belle care for Killian.

She’s sure it’s not proper, but Regina’s servants are famously discrete and it’s not like anything truly indecorous can happen with him in this state.

Two and a half days into this living nightmare and it’s just so clearly apparent that Belle needs help. Sure, the Arendelle sisters come to relieve her during the day, but she’s up with her brother most of the night, and is clearly not making up those hours, especially when she’s so worried.

So Emma steps in, as needed, when Belle looks like she’s about to pass out from exhaustion. She’s the only practical choice, after all; Mary Margaret has her hands full just keeping her boys away from the sickroom and attempting to control their volume, and Regina is busy fretting over Henry’s wellbeing – regardless of the fact that he doesn’t seem affected in the least – and playing hostess to anyone who decides that _now_ is the perfect moment to pay the townhouse a call.

She’s not nearly as good at the caretaking thing as Belle is. Mostly, Emma  just tries to mimic her  – try and cool him down as much as possible, and calm him down with gentle touches if he starts to whimper and thrash.

It’s hard, watching him like this. For all that Killian has tried not to make himself a big presence since his return, he’s been a quiet, constant figure, present even when Emma tries to deny her awareness of him. Now, he just looks fragile, fever making him thin and vulnerable.

Sadly, there’s nothing she can do. So she just smooths his sweaty hair away from his forehead, ignoring the way he leans slightly into her touch, and prays that he soon returns to his hale and hearty self.

\------

_Killian vaguely recognizes the scenery passing the carriage windows, but it’s really the company that informs him about this latest dream. Erikson and Scarlet both are sitting across from him, glancing at the scenery between quips, so he must be on his way to reunite with Liam and Belle at Arendelle._

_He’s tired, but at this point, it’s hard to tell whether that’s from the journey or the fever. Regardless, it’s a relief to pull up the drive, see the magnificent Arendelle Hall for the first time. Just as he did all those months ago, he stands there for a moment in sheer awe, his mouth likely hanging open, as the other men disembark._

_But this isn’t the same as things were those recent, yet somehow distant months ago, because when Liam opens the door (and oh, Killian knows they have a butler, but who is he to argue with the path of a dream?) his face is stony, not the excitement Killian was once met with._

_“We don’t need you here, Killian. What use would Belle and I have for an old cripple who won’t be able to help the family business? We’ve a new family now, and don’t have any use for you.”_

_\------_

By and large, caring for Killian is a silent occupation. The man himself is, of course, unconscious, but the children have been kept away from the sickroom as well, lending an unnatural quiet to the room.

As off-putting as the silence is, even more alarming is the moments where the quiet is shattered. Emma doesn’t know what’s happening in the sleeping Killian’s head, but he occasionally lets out little whimpers and cries, writhing around in the bed like he’s desperately trying to get away from something. She and Belle do their best to soothe him with shushes and gentle touches, but it doesn’t always work. The fever has claimed him and dragged him someplace they can’t reach him.

\------

_He sees Henry fall off the seawall again, exactly like the nightmare this is._

_He wants so, so badly to help, but his feet won’t move, like they’ve been cemented in place. Lady Storybrooke is sobbing as Emma glares at him and God, why can’t he do anything? He needs to do **something**. _

_But he’s stuck in place, useless and helpless, as Henry’s little coat recedes from sight into the depths of a vengeful sea._

_\------_

Killian receives a surprisingly constant stream of visitors. His family is over every day, of course, visiting their ill brother and allowing Belle to get some rest. But Mr. Erikson is over nearly as often, if not as long, as is Mr. Scarlet (though Emma suspects that’s just as much to support Belle, the way he brings her books each day). Even Mr. Loxley comes by, as do several of the people they had met in town – albeit, seemingly more out of a desire to hear about the dramatic story than from any deep friendship.

The one person who doesn’t make any appearance is Mr. Booth. Which is fine, truly, despite any pitying looks Mary Margaret sends her way. Emma truly isn’t yearning for his presence. It’s simply odd that he doesn’t even make a short visit. Emma is well aware that Killian doesn’t approve of Mr. Booth, for reasons she’s sure are wholly personal, but they’ve always been civil, at least. She’s not aware of any animosity or dislike Mr. Booth might hold towards Captain Jones. If nothing else, she knows he’s on friendly terms with the rest of the family; he ought to at least make an appearance to show his support.

It’s Mr. Scarlet, of all people, who finally approaches her. Emma has nothing particularly against the man; they just haven’t interacted for any extended period of time, the former midshipman more focused on catching Belle’s attention. He seems a good sort, a little goofy, but the kind of man who could be good for her more reserved friend.

He awkwardly shuffles in the open door of the study one day for what seems like several minutes, before Emma finally takes pity on him and calls out, “May I be of any assistance, Mr. Scarlet?”

He’s acting like a nervous little boy. It’s a bit endearing, actually, the way he fiddles with his cuffs. “Well… it’s about Mr. Booth, you see.”

Emma nods. “Yes?”

“And, well, I don’t want to overstep…”

It’s like he’s trying to talk himself out of telling her anything. Idly, she wonders how long it took for Scarlet to convince himself to say anything at all. “You won’t be, Mr. Scarlet. Please, continue.”

“It’s just… I don’t know if Jones told you, but I talked to him a few days before the… incident about Booth, and how Erikson and I were growing a bit wary of him. He seems an agreeable enough fellow he just… he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid us, and disappearing for periods of time. Which I’m sure is none of my business. But I’ve been a bit bored and nosy, ya know?”

Killian actually _hadn’t_ told her anything, so this is all new information. Though really, if Killian had seen fit to tell her Mr. Scarlet’s suspicions, would she have taken him seriously? Already, she had frozen out his concerns once.

“Anyways, it just seemed weird, especially when he didn’t come her to offer his support to the family or what have you. So I followed him. And, uh…” he hesitates, like the next words are difficult to say. Is he truly so concerned about her feelings? “Well, to put it bluntly, ma’am, Mr. Booth seems to be fond of gambling. Overly, perhaps dangerously, so. He’s apparently been sneaking off to some disreputable gaming club at night – frequently enough that everyone recognizes him on sight. I’m very sorry, Lady Misthaven, but it seems like he may be more attached to your money than your lovely self.”

Even if Emma has lost most of her interest in Mr. Booth, it’s still a shock to hear. Despite her interest having waned, Mr. Booth had still seemed so courteous, so enthralled by her. She barely manages to mutter a “Thank you, Mr. Scarlet, for that illuminating information,” before detachedly watching his exit and sinking into her own thoughts.

She’s always been aware of this possibility, but it seems so crude, so dishonest, so cruel, to seek her out with her fortune in mind instead of herself. It’s like she’s some sort of bank, or some kind of prize, instead of a woman.

_Killian never thinks of you like a prize,_ her brain unhelpfully supplies. Even if that’s true, that’s so far beyond the realm of potentiality that she refuses to pay it any more attention.

Instead, she reclines in Regina’s office chair and resolves to rid her mind of any thoughts of Mr. Booth.

\------

_He’s seven years old, and his Papa is finally home from a long sea voyage._

_Killian is waiting on the docks with Liam and Belle and the nanny, practically holding his breath with excitement to see Papa again, whooping with glee as Brennan Jones steps off the deck._

_Even at seven, Killian knows that Papa is much more fond of Liam, his eldest, and Belle, his only daughter, and even his business than he is of his middle child. Killian has grown up accustomed to receiving an absentminded pat on the shoulder or a “that’s nice, son” where his siblings might receive a hug or an affectionate hair ruffle. But today, Brennan walks right past Killian to say hello to the other two children and even the nanny, ignoring Killian like he isn’t even there._

_And he could maybe live with that, knowing that Liam loves him and Belle loves him and Mama loved him._

_But this day, in this dream, Brennan Jones gathers up his little posse and leaves, forgetting Killian entirely._

_Alone._

_\------_

She’s watching over Killian by herself the evening of the third day while Belle takes her dinner when Killian begins whimpering again. They’ve learned in the past few days that the best way to calm him down during these episodes is with gentle touches to the face and shoulders, letting the soft pressure of their hands reassure him, even in his unconsciousness state.

Today, though, it’s doing nothing. Instead, Killian has started muttering “no” repeatedly, sounding for all the world like his heart is breaking.

Emma’s kept herself so valiantly from feeling anything for this man, but for one moment, she allows herself to crack, stroking his burning cheek carefully as she murmurs quietly, “Hush, darling, everything’s fine. Nothing’s hurting you.”

It’s weird, because he cracks his eyes for a short moment, almost like he registers her presence. And maybe he does, because he switches from muttering his sorrowful denial to a different set of repeated words.

“So sorry Emma, I’m so sorry, so sorry, so sorry…”

She doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for – probably never will – but she tries to soothe him all the same.

After all, isn’t that what anyone would do?

\------

_His dream world reforms in what appears to be the back garden of Snowdrop house – the Blanchard’s residence in London. It’s difficult for Killian to place what twisted memory he’s fallen into for a moment – he’d been in this garden a number of times during his courtship of Emma. However, when he looks over to see Emma pacing back in forth in fury, he knows in a sudden wave of horror exactly what moment he’s going to be forced to relive._

_Unfortunately, there’s nothing the fever can do to twist this reminiscence. It’s already the most painful, heartbreaking memory he possesses._

_“I can’t believe the nerve of that woman!” Emma practically growls. “To suggest that marrying you is some sort of shame? Unbelievable!”_

_He should say something supportive, or vocalize a disagreement, but unfortunately, this version of himself seems forced to stick to the original script. And Killian of eight and half years ago took Emma’s aunt’s words to heart, doubting his own worth and saying nothing._

_“I’m grateful for everything Aunt Cora has done for me, taking care of me and Mary Margaret as well as Regina all these years, but this is a step too far. To say she’ll cut me off from my cousins, just for marrying you? Unbelievable! I’m to be a countess in my own right, I can do what I want!”_

_Even years later, Killian does understand Cora Mills Blanchard’s concern. After all, Emma is probably the greatest ‘catch’ of the three girls under her care – young and beautiful and titled, not to mention fabulously wealthy. If she, the prize offering,  can’t secure any better than a naval lieutenant for a husband, what chance do the other two girls stand on the marriage market? Allowing Emma to keep contact with her cousins would be an implicit approval of the match. The only way Mrs. Blanchard can likely think of to preserve her daughte’r and step-daughter’s own prospects is to enforce a break between the girls to make obvious to everyone that the residents of Snowdrop House do **not** sanction a match between Emma and Killian._

_As sometimes happens in dreams, the timeline lurches suddenly forward, a five day period zipping by in a matter of seconds, back to the garden again. This time, Emma stands in front of him in tears, and Killian’s heart shatters all over again._

_“But why?” She begs. “Why don’t you want to marry me anymore? What happened, Killian?”_

_He wants so desperately to take those words back, but this nightmare is a memory, and he can’t change a thing. “Can’t you see Emma? I can’t be the reason you lose the only family you have left.”_

_“But **you** could be my family, Killian! It’s not like we’d never see Mary Margaret and Regina again, Cora won’t live forever.”_

_Today, knowing everything he does, knowing Emma would spend eight miserable years alone, he could have been persuaded. But this Killian he used to be is determined, so instead he leaves her with the words that will haunt him._

_“I can’t let you do this, Emma. I’m not worth it. I’m so sorry.”_

_And then he turns and leaves, his last vision of the woman he loves one of her with tears running down her face._

_\------_

It’s been four full days, and he isn’t getting better.

He isn’t getting better, and Emma is getting desperate. She’s certainly mad at him, even now, for the decision he made so many years ago, but as he proved by rescuing Henry, he truly is a good man. He’s kind and humble and doesn’t think nearly enough of himself. Regardless of her feelings, he doesn’t deserve to die, especially from doing something so _good_.

She finally gives in, stroking his hair back as she leans into his feverish body, whispering in his ear, “Please don’t die. I’ll do anything, but don’t you dare die on me, Killian.”

Then she sits back to pray that it’s enough.

\------

The morning of the fifth day, Killian Jones’ fever finally breaks, the danger finally passing.

And the entire household breathes a sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a lot longer than I wanted. I've a myriad of excuses - the flu, a bad work schedule, Christmas shopping, lack of desire to write something depressing while waiting for election results - but none of them really matter. Point is, hopefully the next bit will be up MUCH quicker. 
> 
> In the meantime, you guys are all so great! It's so lovely seeing how invested you guys have become in this story. Keep up those comments and kudos and whatnot - I treasure each and every one.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and happy holidays, everyone!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, italics are for flashbacks. Enjoy!

Killian blearily opens his eyes to find a collection of worried women staring down at him.

Anna, of course (bless her heart), is the first to move, practically throwing herself onto him. “Oh, Killian, I was so worried! Well, we were so worried, all of us really, I don’t have the monopoly on concern or anything –”

Thankfully, Elsa notices him gasping for breath and pries her sister off. “Let the man have some space, Anna. Do you need some water, Killian?”

He barely manages a nod before a glass is placed at his lips, Belle supporting his head from the back so he can take a few sips. Barely have those first few drops crossed his lips before he tries to guzzle the whole glass. Unfortunately, Belle pulls it away before he can achieve that, and _damn_ the fever for making him so weak that he can’t chase after the glass. “Settle down, Killy, take your time. You’ve been asleep a long while with nothing on your stomach, I don’t want you to throw this all back up.”

It makes a certain amount of sense. He knows Belle is just trying to take care of him. But dammit, his throat is like a desert. He just wants some water. Well, and maybe some soup. But mostly water.

Luckily, Elsa seems to be somewhat of a mind reader, as she stands and motions Anna over to the door. “Come on, Anna, let’s see if we can talk some broth out of Regina’s cook.”

It shouldn’t be too much a struggle. The woman seems just like her employer – loves showing off. But all the same, Killian is grateful for Elsa’s efforts – both to get him some kind of sustenance and while simultaneously leaving him with some semblance of quiet. As Anna’s cheery chattering recedes down the hall, he turns to Belle, who inexplicably still looks worried.

“Are you alright, love? What’s the matter?”

Belle bites her lip, and Killian is alarmed to see that she’s on the verge of tears. “Hey now, love, there’s no need for tears. I’m here, I’m alright.”

His sister sniffles. “I know, I know, but… you almost weren’t!” she tosses at him accusingly. “I’m so proud of you for saving Henry, but don’t you ever scare me like this again. I’ve been out of my mind with worry these past days.”

She really does look exhausted, bags under her eyes like she hasn’t gotten any proper sleep in far too long. “And Henry? Henry’s fine?”

That, at least, draws a smile out of her. “Yes, he’s fine. Lady Storybrooke has been fretting over him like you wouldn’t believe, but no ill effects, thank God.”

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad he’s ok.” Silence has never been an issue between he and his sister – both content to curl up in the library with an engrossing book, at least until Belle finds a passage he positively _has_ to read – but today, there’s things that need to be said. “Really, Belle, thank you for your care. I’m sorry I worried you so.”

A sadness crosses her face for only a moment before she gets a smugger look. Well, maybe that’s not the word. It might be closer to conniving. Like she’s about to say something he won’t much like. “You know, I’m not the only one who was worried about you.”

That’s all? With no small amount of relief, he replies, “Yes, I’m sure Liam and Elsa were quite concerned. Probably Anna too, if I know her reactions at –” but Belle cuts them off.

“No, not them! Well, yes, obviously, they were very concerned about your health, and we couldn’t let Anna in because she’d turn into a useless emotional mess. But no, I meant Emma.”

Now, _that_ is news. “I’m sure she was exactly as concerned as Mrs. Nolan and Lady Storybrooke were. Perhaps even less than Lady Storybrooke, since I saved her son.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Killy, she seemed awful worried. She was the one taking care of you whenever I needed a break to eat or sleep, you know.”

“Now that can’t be true. I’m sure Elsa was more than happy to take over while you rested.”

“Of course she was. But that doesn’t change the fact that whenever Elsa was back at the townhouse and I needed to take care of myself, she was here with you. Plus, you were calling her name at one point.”

His blood runs a little cold, knowing that his sister is a short step away from discovering the secrets from his past, but he does his best to put on an indignant face. “I most certainly did not!”

If Belle looked smug before, she looks practically giddy now. He absolutely must start paying more attention to some woman, if only so she stops getting excited about any care any woman pays him, regardless of how unlikely a union might be. “You most certainly did! I heard you myself. So… is there anything you’d like to tell me?” And she grins like a madwoman.

He does his best to keep his face neutral as he sighs. “Belle, there is nothing between Lady Misthaven and I.”

That sets the confused brow wrinkle for a moment, before seemingly finding a loophole – another question to ask. Unfortunately for him, it’s precisely the right question. “Was there something going on, when you met before?” she demands, her face lighting up.

“Belle…” he whines, but there’s no stopping his sister when she thinks she’s onto some great research project.

“There was, wasn’t there? That’s why you were muttering her name and why she avoids you and you always get so quiet when she’s in the room… Oh my God, so much makes sense now!”

It’s a nightmare, is what it is. His fever never actually broke and he’s still stuck in a twisted nightmare. It’s the only explanation. But when he pinches himself, he very much feels it. Excellent.

He’s sure his discomfort is obvious on his face. But still, Belle keeps chattering on. “Well, is it true? Tell me, Killy, is that right?”

“Fine!” he snaps. “Fine, we were close, those eight years ago. Really close. We were _engaged_ , Belle. And I mucked it all up and broke the engagement, even though she wanted to marry me and I desperately wanted to marry her. _I’m_ the reason she’s been lonely for years, and doesn’t open herself to others the way she should, and I get to see that every day here, because it’s _all my fault_.”

Belle looks… well, Belle looks shocked, and Killian feels a short flash of victory before the guilt sets in. His sister may sometimes be a bit nosy – a good match for Scarlet in that way, really – but she doesn’t deserve him snapping at her. “I’m sorry, Belle. Terribly bad form of me, I know you mean well.”

Unfortunately, his sister still looks hurt. “I forgive you,” she says of course – Belle one of the most forgiving people he knows – “but Killian, why? Why didn’t you tell us? Didn’t you trust us with your news?”

The shame comes rushing back, because what can he say, really? “These past few months, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship in any way – for either of you – but as for why I didn’t tell you all those years ago… I don’t have an excuse. Not a good one at least. I’m so sorry, Belle.”

\------

_He really ought to tell his family about Emma. He wants to tell his family about Emma. He just… hasn’t._

_Killian has excuses, of course. Liam would be particularly difficult to reach, as he’s currently on a company trip to the Continent and there’s no real predicting where he currently is. Belle is finishing up a last year of school, and while he absolutely could interrupt her studies – even his bookworm sister would gladly leave her academy for a short week or two to meet the woman who had stolen his heart – he still doesn’t write. Or, at least, doesn’t write her about Emma._

_Sure, he has those practical excuses, but the truth of the matter is far less logical and far more emotional._

_He just has trouble believing, some days, that he can lay any claim at all to Miss Swan’s attentions. Emma is… Emma is everything. She’s a golden ray of sunshine; laughter and happiness and light. Most days, he believes her to be some sort of angel, sent from heaven as a reward for actions in a previous life that he can’t remember. It’s the only explanation, since he doesn’t deserve her in the least._

_But that wonder she brings to his life also makes him treasure each moment to himself, reluctant to share the details with anyone else – even his beloved siblings. In many ways, it feels like if he shares this, shares his adoration of Emma with anyone else, he’ll jinx the whole thing, causing it to disintegrate and disappear before his eyes. It’s irrational, but the truth._

_So he keeps his own confidence and keeps his current joy to himself._

\------

Belle just looks at him sadly, with that vaguely disappointed air -  almost maternal – that she’s perfected over the years. “I suppose you want me to continue to keep this from the others?” And then mutters under her breath like she doesn’t want him to hear, “Lord only knows why…”

It’s with no small amount of shame that he replies in the affirmative. “I wouldn’t want to negatively affect the relationship between our family and hers. Especially for something that happened so long in the past.”

Belle nods, but it’s reluctant. “I’ll keep your secret, but I want you to think about whether her anger towards you is truly stronger than your anger towards yourself. All I know is that regardless of what may have happened in the past and regardless of any shame and awkwardness may have tinged the past weeks, she was genuinely concerned for you during this fever. Perhaps her feelings for you aren’t quite as dead and buried as either of you would like to believe.” With that, she stands. “Now, if you’ll be alright by yourself for a few minutes, I’m going to fetch some more water and that novel you were eyeing last week. Mr. Scarlet dropped it by, and I think you’ll quite like it.”

And with those last words, she presses a kiss to his forehead and exits the room, leaving Killian alone with his thoughts.

———

Mr. Booth finally makes his appearance the day after Captain Jones wakes up, ready to be charming and attentive. Unfortunately, Emma is no longer willing to accept those attentions. Instead, Regina is left to deal with the man, Emma no longer willing to even entertain his presence. When Emma had shared with the other women what Mr. Scarlet had informed her about Booth, her friends and cousins had been understandably outraged – well, except for Mary Margaret, who took it upon herself to be heartbroken on Emma’s behalf. Typical. While the other ladies are sympathetic, Regina takes particular umbrage at Booth’s actions, and so relishes the opportunity to politely, yet coldly make obvious that he will no longer be welcome in the Storybrooke townhouse. That doesn’t stop him from trying – in the next week, they receive his card on four more occasions, and each time he’s told by the maid or butler answering the door that the family is not home at present (regardless of truth). Eventually, he finally leaves them be. Not long after, Mr. Scarlet and Mr. Erikson come bearing the news that Mr. Booth has relocated to different lodgings.

Good riddance.

            ------

Three days after he wakes up, Killian is finally given permission to leave – well, declared recovered enough to return to his own home. Semantics.

Belle had been kind enough to bring him a change of clothes, so he’s just carefully folding and packing the things he was wearing during the accident and the shirt he’s been sleeping in when Lady Storybrooke sweeps into the room. He hasn’t had many dealings with Emma’s other cousin, now or in the past; Regina was always the more emotionally distant of the two. So it’s somewhat of a shock to see her in the chamber he’s occupied for the past week. Even more of a shock is to see her without her air of haughty confidence – looking downright uncomfortable, actually.

“May I be of assistance, Milady?” he asks softly, hoping he hasn’t inadvertently insulted her in any way. It’s near impossible to tell with that woman until things are too late.

“No, I don’t think so, I just…” she suddenly finds a loose thread on her skirt very interesting. Oh, but this bashful, uncomfortable version of the viscountess is a fascinating thing to watch. He can visibly see her steel herself before lifting her chin in a semblance of confidence and finishing her thought. “I don’t like being wrong, Captain Jones.”

Well, that’s a non-sequitur if he’s ever encountered one. “Oh?”

He can visibly see her confidence increase as she finds her words and prepares to continue forward in conversation. “I don’t. Not at all. I find it wastes time and makes people think less of me than I deserve, less confident in me than I need as a single woman in charge of managing her son’s estate. I can’t afford to be wrong, and I don’t like it. But you…” she huffs a sigh. “I was wrong about you.”

There’s no proper answer he can give to that, so he just nods in encouragement, hoping a more enlightening statement will come.

“I know I haven’t been particularly… friendly towards you since you came to Arendelle. I based my entire opinion of you on the events of the past, and it seems that may not have been warranted, now that you’ve saved my son. Which I can never properly repay you for.”

Killian feels he has to interrupt at that point – he didn’t do anything extraordinary, just the same thing anyone would have done in his position, he was just the fastest this one time in his life. “Please, Milady, it’s not necessary –”

“No, Captain, it is. I can’t possibly come close to repaying you the way you deserve, but what I can do is apologize. I was wrong about you, and I hope you can forgive me.”

It’s a peace offering, he finally figures out. She’s here to make nice, to let bygones be bygones. That’s why she’s standing here looking uncomfortable. It’s coming from the last person he’d ever expected, but it makes him smile all the same. “Your apology is most gratefully accepted, ma’am. I’m only glad that the little lad is ok.” With that, he fastens the last buckle on his small bag, ready to go, before posing a final, somewhat sheepish, question, complete with a scratch to the ear. “Actually, would I be able to see young Henry for just a few minutes?”

And shock of all shocks, the former Miss Regina Mills actually treats him to a smile. “I think that could be arranged.”

It’s a bit of an odd feeling, being back on the good side of the viscountess, but he’s learned not to question a good thing when it comes to Lady Storybrooke.

———

She hates to say it, but Regina’s townhouse feels empty with the departure of Killian and company. Well, not precisely empty, not with three young boys running around underfoot, but like a piece of the equation is missing. It’s easy enough to tell herself that it’s just Belle’s constant presence that she misses.

(The other part of her, the little part that whispers that she misses being able to care for Killian, even if under the worst of circumstances, is even easier to ignore.)

The Jones’ business had been largely completed before the accident, so not even a week later both households find themselves packing to leave. Regina had kindly offered to take Anna to some of the London shops – an offer she had gladly accepted – so the entire party is locating to Town. Emma is reluctant – not only is she sick of travel and anxious to be back in her own home, but London holds conflicting memories she knows Captain Jones’ presence will exacerbate – but she recognizes that glint in Regina’s eye. Her cousin is up to something, and it falls to Emma to keep an eye on everything, just in case. Regina may not meddle as often as Mary Margaret does, but she can be just as devious, and far more determined that her schemes stick. No, it’s better for Emma to come too, just to supervise.

At the moment, there’s nothing to be done about whatever Regina is planning, since the woman is notoriously tight-lipped. So, in the meantime, they’re all focused on doing their part in putting things to rights – returning books and sheet music to their proper places, retrieving embroidery from where it’s been left, and all the other little things that inevitably happen and must be undone when a home is lived in for any period of time.

That’s how she runs into him, one day. The Arendelle party had been visiting again – even Mr. Scarlet and Mr. Erikson, though they wouldn’t be joining the party in London – and Emma had, on a chance, spotted a book in the parlor she had absentmindedly set down one evening and forgotten about. It’s to no small surprise, however, that she enters the library to discover she’s not the only one on such a quest to reunite a book with its home. Killian is already there, halfway up a ladder, seemingly trying to decipher the library’s organization system with a small stack on a nearby table.

Spotting her in the doorway, he’s clearly just as shocked as she is. Indeed, he nearly falls off the ladder in his surprise.

“I’m so sorry, Em… Milady, I discovered that a small stash of books somehow made it home with Belle, I’ll be out of your way if you like…”

She waves a dismissive hand before he can ramble any further. “It’s perfectly alright, Captain. I can help if you like.”

He manages a short nod before they both get to work, trying to find homes for all the obscure tomes Belle had somehow weeded out of the collection. They search in silence for several minutes before he speaks up, breaking their stalemate. “Belle says you cared for me while I was ill. Thank you for that, I know you didn’t have to.”

She musters up a brief smile. “Don’t worry yourself about it, it was the least I could do after what you did for Henry.”

Emma expects that to be it. That _should_ be it. Beyond the care brought on by his life-threatening illness, they’re not friends. There shouldn’t be anything else to say. But no, he opens his mouth again.

“Belle also led me to believe that I maybe said some things while under the fever, and I’m sorry for anything I might have said to make you uncomfortable.”

Emma has a terrible feeling he’s going to want to talk, to get everything out on the table, which is approximately the last thing she wants to engage in. “Please, Killian, we don’t have to do this –” she tries to protest, but he’s determined.

“No, Emma, I think I do. I don’t know what I said, but I know I dreamed about you –”

“ – we don’t have to –”

“ – and about that last time we saw each other –”

“ – Please, Killian –”

“ – and I just wanted to apologize – ”

“Stop!” she finally barks. Maybe in other circumstances she’d take pity on his confused face, but right now, she’s too angry to care. “Stop, please stop apologizing. Please.”

His brow only furrows further. “But I ought to apologize, for both the way I acted last week and those years ago.”

He’s probably right. A level-headed person would probably agree with him. But not Emma, not today. “You must understand, Killian, that your actions aren’t something that I can just sweep under the run with an apology.”

He does have the decency to look slightly ashamed, at least. “I never intended that, Emma.”

“Maybe you didn’t intend it, but that’s what it feels like, all the same. I know you thought that you were doing me a favor and I could just move on, but I couldn’t. I never truly had the chance. While you were secluded out at sea and welcome to imagine any life you liked for me to live, I had to stay at home and read your engagement announcement and all the news about the ships you were assigned to in the newspapers. How could I move on, when I still had so many opportunities to follow your life, even before I met your family?”

She can see the shame creep over his face. She does feel a bit bad – while she wants him to understand her point of view, she doesn’t want to hurt further his already damaged self-esteem. “I truly didn’t mean to do that to you, Emma,” he finally replies, barely above a whisper.

Emma sighs – probably the best representation of her conflicted feelings. “I know. I know, and I’m trying to put it behind us, because I know you’re still a good man, as you proved with Henry. Just please, don’t try anymore to apologize for what you did that day, because it’s not something an apology can ever really fix. In many ways, it’s insulting to me and my feelings to think that it could.”

Killian nods, and Emma thinks she finally sees a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “I think I can manage that.” Suddenly, he thrusts his hand forward. “Friends, again?”

It’s a complicated question. They never were exactly friends, moving straight from strangers to lovers without any stage in between. But the truth of the matter is that Killian Jones is in her life, likely for good (if their relationships with the other Joneses continue, as she expects), and it would be easier to be on good turns. So after a pause for thought, she clasps his hand.

“Friends.”

\------

Friends? _Friends?_ He must have lost his bloody mind.

He finally understands, a little, about the way she’s had to deal with his absence these past years, and it’s lent him an understanding of her actions these past weeks. But all motives aside, he’s now positive he’ll never manage to just be friends with Emma. For better or worse, he loves her. Always has, and apparently always will.

But she’s willing to clasp his hand, albeit after a pause, so he shakes all the same.

After all, friends is better than nothing, and is certainly better than the hell she’s put him through these past weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, this chapter should just be subtitled "Everybody Talks", since that's basically the gist of this. 
> 
> Please contact the "comment box" below with any questions, comments, or concerns, to borrow from customer service. Really, I love your comments. Y'all are so good to me. 
> 
> Happy New Year, and I hope you all enjoyed this!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again - italics are for flashbacks. Though it's an Emma flashback this time, so that's new and different.

Regina is definitely up to something. Emma’s just not sure what yet.

 Normally, she would have taken the opportunity of the carriage ride, an enclosed and unescapable venue for her pseudo-interrogation, to grill her cousin about what she’s up to. But Regina and Henry had followed a day behind everyone else, the former needing the opportunity to supervise the closing-up of her Brighton residence once again and listing it as available for let. Emma had instead passed the journey with Anna, Belle, and Killian, filled with Anna’s chattering about every subject to be imagined and punctuated by odd looks from Belle that Emma wasn’t able to read.

Now, ensconced in Regina’s home, in theory she has time to observe and to question the woman herself. However, conveniently, Regina keeps finding excuses to evade her questioning – Henry needs her, or she needs to discuss some matter with the housekeeper, or would Emma please fetch this one thing? It’s terribly important and she needs it immediately.

All that Emma can tell is it must involve Killian, since Regina keeps making a point to pull him aside each time he or his party visit, resulting in an increasingly uncomfortable-looking Captain.

Emma should be relieved that if nothing else, Regina’s plans don’t seem to involve her. But she can’t help but feel wary, and increasing puzzled by her cousin’s plotting.

That is, until young ladies they barely know start showing up at the door.

\------

Killian finds himself roped into Lady Storybrooke’s plotting, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.

She means well, for certain. It’s obvious to anyone that Killian is somewhat isolated and lonely – years spent at sea in charge of other people making it somewhat difficult to once again relate and form connections on this personal level. Being surrounded by family again, forced into company with Emma and her family again, has helped, but he is still largely alone. It seems Regina has taken this as a challenge, and decided that the best way to repay him for saving her son is to find him a wife.

Half of Killian’s objection is the obvious issue – Lady Storybrooke has no business meddling in his life. Regardless of any kind intentions, he’s a grown man who has long since given up on love. Emma was – well, is – his one great love, and his single attempt into matrimony after that was for the sake of keeping up appearances rather than any romantic inclinations. It’s somewhat pointless for Lady Storybrooke to guide these women his way when his heart is irreversibly – and hopelessly – engaged by another.

Beyond that, however, the women she keeps pushing his way are simply not his taste. Oh, he’s sure they’re perfectly nice ladies, and perfect for someone – everyone has their match and all that – but it’s difficult to spend an afternoon with most of them, let alone the rest of his life. Miss Aurora Stevens bounces back and forth between a simpering blandness that nearly drives him mad and a snobbishness that’s even worse. Lady Zelena Green was at least somewhat bolder, less of a mindless decoration, but she had also been slightly terrifying, especially with that crazed look in her eyes. Miss Ariel Ichthyes had been the most palatable of the lot – sweet tempered and happy, but still curious and willing to form her own opinions – but she also turns out to be in the midst of her own star-crossed, secret romance with her own returning sailor. Instead of forming a deeper, potentially romantic connection with the lady over the course of an afternoon tea, like Lady Storybrooke assumes he’s doing, he spends the afternoon discussing the logistics of undertaking a romance her family doesn’t approve of and suggesting gifts any returning sailor might like for his birthday. Killian truly hopes to remain friends with the lovely young lady – hopefully seeing her and her young Lieutenant Prince at future events – but it’s very obvious to both sides that no romantic feelings will be forthcoming. And he’s perfectly fine with that.

In the meantime, as much as he hates to admit it, Killian has taken to attempting to avoid Regina whenever she makes mention of any special plans, any addendum of “just a few people, I don’t know why you’re giving me that look, I’m just attempting to be polite”. There’s always plenty to do at the warehouses of the business that can keep him occupied. When he’s reached the end of available tasks, he avails himself of the club Liam frequents – a smaller, quieter outfit that doesn’t attract scandal where he can sit by the fire with a book or game of chess and generally avoid Storybrooke House.

Those days he can’t avoid the schemes of the Viscountess, he fires right back in more subtle ways. By chance, Captain Robin Loxley is in town, trying to locate lodgings for himself and his two-year-old son for when he begins his new position overseeing the warehouses after Erikson takes up his previous post. Killian doesn’t know the man particularly well, but Liam does, and had made a passing comment about Loxley forming an “inexplicable fascination” with the ever-regal Viscountess. So, in his own attempt at matchmaking, Killian takes to inviting the other captain to join their party when he’s roped into Lady Storybrooke’s events. Is it a petty form of payback? Most likely. Will he enjoy every minute? Absolutely.

\------

Emma is… uncomfortable, watching Killian with all these women. That’s the word she’s choosing. It would be positively irrational to feel _jealous_ , wouldn’t it?

(A little part of her does wonder if this is how he felt, watching her in her past interactions with Mr. Booth.)

Even if Emma is feeling irrationally jealous, she’s careful to keep it tamped down, where no one can see. The part of herself more removed from the situation is able to appreciate the humor in the whole state of affairs, and it’s that amusement that she allows to peek through. Killian has never been the suave gentleman he likes to pretend he is, but this is more than his usual awkwardness. No, this is a level of discomfort that veers into the hilarious.

\------

_The early stages of their courtship are less of a give and take, and more like an eager puppy following at her heels. He regards her always with a look of absolute adoration, happy to follow along with whatever may please her, practically tripping over his feet in an effort to be of assistance._

_It’s endearing, at first. Emma’s never been in any kind of courtship before; the idea of someone devoting themselves to her happiness in the most enthusiastic of ways is a novel and beautiful thing. But as the weeks go on, it becomes more grating. It’s hard to actually learn anything about the man who acts like he wants to spend his life with her when all he does is bow to her every whim without expressing any of his own opinions. He’s trying so hard to be exactly who he thinks she wants him to be that she has very little idea of who he actually is;_

_She finally breaks one day and confronts him, after he agrees to her truly ridiculous suggestion that they take a walk in the park while the weather drizzles outside. “Would you quit that?” she demands, only to be met by a confused face._

_“I’m sorry, Miss Swan?”_

_“This whole agreeing with everything I say lark. Do you think I want you to just be some bland…_ thing _who can’t ever express an original thought? That’s terribly boring, you know.”_

_She will say, it’s a little adorable how he stumbles over his response, like a little bit of his personality shining through. “I…well, I… I didn’t… that is…” He finally pauses, seems to finally collect his words and thoughts. “I mean no offense, my lady.” Another pause. “I just… I suppose I just don’t want to ruin my chances before we even start.”_

_It really is touching, and slightly sad, how he’s been agreeing with her out of fear that expressing his real opinions would make her not like him. “I do believe there’s no danger of that, Lieutenant. I’d much rather get to know who you really are. Now, tell me something you’ve been too polite to say these past weeks.”_

_She can physically see the relief rush out of him in one breath as he offers her a sheepish grin. “Well, for one, I’d rather not walk in the rain today.”_

_Emma laughs and nods in return, hoping to encourage him further. “I figured as much. What else?”_

_He thinks for a moment before continuing. “I don’t enjoy dancing as much as I led you to believe. I don’t dislike it, but when you said you simply loved it I agreed because I thought it would look better if I said I love dancing too. I know you love the rose walk in the park, and I’m happy to oblige, but my favorite path is actually the one past the pond, where you can see the ducks and swans. And while I really do think you look beautiful in everything, I’m particularly fond of the green dress and the way it makes your eyes look like emeralds.” The more he speaks, the more confident he becomes, and Emma is validated to see some of his awkwardness ease._

_Going forward, he’s still sometimes more agreeable than is probably wise. But his hesitance in speaking abates, and Emma counts that as a win in and of itself._

_\------_

Watching Killian with the women now, it’s easy to tell that this current awkwardness is far different from his eagerness to please in the past. No, this is instead born of a discomfort with the situation, being forced against his will into the present circumstances with very little interest in participating, let alone in those he’s being made to interact with.

Emma will say, his little revenge is subtle and brilliant. She hadn’t been aware of any attraction between Regina and Captain Loxley, but it’s hard to deny the effects when Emma has the proof in front of her face – the way the Captain smiles and follows her with his eyes, the way her cousin seems confused and unsure while still attempting to project haughty confidence in her interactions with Loxley. She has to admit – it’s impressive that Killian was able to pick up on this, the one thing that could throw Regina off her game. And oh, is she ever thrown. Emma tries to ask her about it – more for the humor than anything else – but she barely gets out the words “Now, about Captain Loxley –” before Regina cuts her off.

“No, we’re not talking about this.”

Really, full points to Killian for frazzling stoic, icy Regina to this extent with his own plotting.

\------

Lady Storybrooke’s latest candidate is named Miss Bell. Thomasina Bell. As if such a tiny woman needed such a mouthful of a name.

(“My friends all call me Tink,” she tells him. “My father wanted a boy and kept getting girls. Harriet, Wilhelmina, Alberta… really, Thomasina isn’t so bad compared to what Birdie has to deal with.”)

(He finds it a little presumptuous for her to tell him her preferred first name, since they’re practically strangers. He, for one, intends to stay that way, and never need to be on a first name basis.)

Killian would like to pay just as little attention to Miss Bell as he did to the other ladies, but the Viscountess had introduced the woman as a “dear friend”, leaving him feeling like a certain amount of tact and regard is warranted – even if that means having to tolerate Miss Bell’s presence. She’s not awful, per se; she’s just… a lot to take in. Miss Bell may be a tiny woman, but every inch of her is full of energy, making it hard to keep up. As the group strolled in the local park – some more willingly than others – Killian had been maneuvered by Lady Storybrooke’s pointed looks into offering his arm to the young lady, who then proceeded to practically drag him down the path. He can’t imagine it was particularly enjoyable for either of them, though Miss Bell hadn’t let on any displeasure; he was certainly holding her back from her desired pace, and her determined efforts to get him to move faster didn’t do his bad leg any favors. She also has a habit of chattering away seemingly without any regard for his interest level, which is slowly driving him mad. Most unfortunately in all this, because Her Ladyship has the excuse of a prior friendship, she’s stopped mentioning to him in advance when Miss Bell will be coming by to visit. Or perhaps the young lady has simply taken to dropping by spontaneously. Regardless, his previous avoidance tactics have well and truly failed him.

The one thing of interest in his interactions with the latest candidate actually has nothing to do with the lady herself. Instead, Killian finds the most interest in watching Emma’s reactions to his dealings with Miss Bell. In the past months, he’s become very skilled in watching Emma without appearing to do so, so he’s seen her mild amusement at his expense, her hidden smiles at how clearly he wants nothing to do with this situation her cousin has forced him into (even if there is a little something else underneath her amusement that he can’t quite put his finger on). But the way she watches him with Miss Bell… it’s all scowls and irritable glares shot their way. He’s not even certain she means to do it, but the dark looks exist, all the same. He suspects the reason is his increased level of attention towards this young lady over the previous contenders – even if paying that attention is somewhat contrary to his desires. At the same time, he can’t help but wonder if the reason for her reaction is even more personal; Miss Bell is a blonde, green-eyed, energetic young woman, who has an opinion on everything and knows exactly what she wants – not unlike someone else of his acquaintance. It’s a theory, at least.

In the meantime, as long as Lady Storybrooke is practically forcing him to entertain Miss Bell in all her hyperactivity, he may as well take advantage of the chance to further observe Emma, and perhaps get a proper idea about whether her feelings towards him have changed.

\------

If Emma was uncomfortable before, watching Killian interact with Miss Bell induces an unmistakable jealousy, one she can no longer hide – no matter how hard she tries.

It’s so _stupid_ , because before Brighton and Henry and his fever, Emma didn’t even want anything to do with Killian. But now she just feels like she just missed a chance she never even knew that she wanted.

It doesn’t help how often she’s forced to see them together, now that Emma is staying with Regina and Henry. She can tell that he’s still not fully enthusiastic about sharing company with the young lady, and that makes things momentarily better, but then Emma watches them speaking together again (well, the blonde speaking, Killian patiently listening) and the jealousy just _boils_.

She’s sure that Miss Bell is a perfectly nice young lady. It says a lot that Regina considers her a friend, especially considering how uppity Regina can act without conscious knowledge. But she’s perky and giggly and energetic, and _God_ , what kind of name is Tink anyways? It’s not a name. It’s a noise at best, nonsense really. The point is, despite all logic, Emma Does Not Like Miss Bell.

And since it seems like the blonde pixie will be around for at least the near future, Emma’s going to have to find a way to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma doesn't share well with others. Regina is crafty. And poor Killian is just stuck in the middle.
> 
> I think that there's, like, four chapters left to this. Ish. So hang onto your hats, folks.
> 
> As always, thank you for your kudos and especially your comments. I want to be better in the New Year about responding to you guys - hopefully I can stick with that!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this, and I hope you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics still denote flashbacks. Enjoy!

It’s a relief to be back in her own home.

A short trip had been nice, a welcome change of scenery, but the allure of Brighton and the shopping in London can only do so much. Even if Regina had been more than welcoming, Emma just likes the comfort of her own bed and being master of her own domain. So she makes her excuses and takes a carriage back to her beloved Misthaven.

Of course, Killian’s continued romancing of Miss Bell only encourages her departure. Emma knows she should have put herself forward, been more assertive, made her feelings on the matter clear to Killian before she left; even Mary Margaret had suggested as much (well, as much as Mary Margaret ever does; Regina has the monopoly on blunt words). But she hadn’t. It’s all terribly immature, especially since she and Killian had made their agreement to be friends (and friends are _supposed_ to talk), but there you have it. She’s officially a child. She just _can’t_ watch that insipid pixie girl hanging on his arm anymore, laughing at whatever he says.

The truth is, there was no reason she absolutely _had_ to go home. Emma may have told Regina that Mr. Humbert had sent her word of an urgent matter that required her attention in person, but in reality, there was nothing that required her immediate attention that couldn’t be handled by correspondence. But Emma was overwhelmed with the situations and the togetherness and all the conflicting _feelings_ , so she left to return to where she feels most comfortable.

(Regina probably knows _exactly_ why she returns home, but at least has the decency not to make a fuss about it.)

Any guilt she may have about leaving and her motives for doing so are erased the moment she steps back into the hall and Mrs. Lucas starts fussing over her, worried about the lines in Emma’s brow and how much she’s been eating.

Traveling and adventures are all good and well, but Emma is _home_. And she doesn’t intend to leave again for a long while.

\------

There’s something to be said for returning to Arendelle – an unexpected and subtle contentment. This isn’t his home, per se – he’s not sure he really has a home, at the moment – but it’s quiet and comfortable and lets him feel like he can breathe a sigh of relief to be away from the hustle and bustle.

It had become very quickly necessary to get away from the social scene and obligations of London that Killian felt were slowly suffocating him. Regina had only continued to be more insistent that he and Miss Bell get to know one another, and Miss Bell had only continued to annoy. Killian’s fond memories of Town came to an abrupt end years ago; Emma’s presence had truly been his only incentive to stay. He’d willingly endure all manner of irritations to continue being in her company. But when Emma departed, so did his patience for the whole farce. So he stays as long as he can stomach before begging leave to return home. His family will be in London for at least another several days to possibly a couple weeks, waiting for the delivery of a last few packages for the ladies. In the meantime, Killian intends to enjoy a few days to himself and develop some sort of strategy for interacting with Emma.

Well, at least he intends to enjoy a few days of solitude. However, he’s barely home for a day and a half – including the late afternoon he had after returning to Arendelle – before Will Scarlet makes a reappearance, very much in a state. Apparently, he’s been hit hard with an intense case of “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and has made a dramatic reappearance with the intention of making a dashing proposal to Belle – a plan now foiled by the fact that Killian is very much alone in the house. That’s not stopping Scarlet from pacing like a maniac, narrating every aspect of his feelings towards Killian’s baby sister.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, mate, but she’s brilliant, you know? Of course you know. She’s brilliant, far smarter than I can ever hope to be, and she’s so curious too… and of course she’s got the biggest heart, far more forgiving than any of us deserve. She makes you… makes you want to be the best version of yourself, you know?” Scarlet runs a hand across his head and laughs at himself, obviously aware of how he looks and sounds, pacing here in the main parlor. “God, I must sound a fool. I don’t even care.”

Killian knows the feeling. He remembers what it felt like, holding the attention of an angel when he had no right to, when she shouldn’t even have deigned to acknowledge him. Every action turned into a Herculean effort to garner her attention and care, to prove to her that he can be the kind of man he deserves, all the while knowing that there’s no way he can deserve the affections of a goddess. He can imagine Scarlet feels similar. In the meantime, the man himself has moved on to other concerns.

“God, how does a man even go about this?” he demands, finally halting in front of Killian. “It’s supposed to be an event, isn’t it? You’re her brother, you tell me. Is Belle going to want a whole production?”

Killian has to stifle a smile. In a way, it’s reassuring, see how worked up Scarlet is about the prospect of even proposing to Belle. It makes him think that his sister will be in good hands going forward. That doesn’t mean he isn’t above testing the man. “I don’t know, Scarlet, what do you think?”

Scarlet shoots him a glare, but thinks it through all the same. Still, when he answers it’s tentative. “…No?” It’s only Killian’s nod that spurs him forward. “No. No, of course not. She’s a practical lass, not too concerned with fuss, of course she doesn’t need some production. So, what, just come right out and ask? Do I need a gift?” He quickly turns on his heel, and any happiness Killian might have felt about the matter evaporates with Scarlet’s next words:

“What did you do, when you proposed to Emma?”

It should be impossible to shift from joy to panic this fast, but he does all the same. Because Scarlet shouldn’t know about his past with Emma. _How_ does Scarlet know about Emma?

“How do you know anything about Emma and I?”

Scarlet visibly pales; if this was any other moment, Killian would have relished having finally rattled his unshakable crewman. Unfortunately, panic is still overruling any other reaction. Scarlet finally stutters out an answer, but it does nothing to reassure Killian. “Well, you know, I, uh… it’s… well doesn’t everyone know? I mean the yearning looks and everything and I just kinda put it together and…”

Killian can only imagine what his face must look like, because the panic feels damn near overwhelming, like the world is spiraling away to a blur except for Scarlet’s face. The latter must notice something, as he suddenly sighs and grips Killian on the arm before changing the course of his sentence. “Look, your sister told me,” he admits. “I really didn’t know anything before that since you’re both so good at avoiding each other, but you told Belle about what happened the last time you and Emma met and I think she just wanted to tell someone. Wanted me to somehow help you two resolve your issues, encourage you to reconcile?” His face takes on a sheepish tinge for a moment. “I’ll freely admit, I got a little distracted by the way Belle gestures when she gets excited about something. But I swear, I haven’t told anyone else, and I don’t think she has either.”

God, it’s like his entire body releases every ounce of tension he was retaining. Sure, it’s a little annoying that Belle shared what he told her, but compared to the alternative of everyone knowing everything – _and_ because he couldn’t keep a straight face – it’s a relief. Plus, Killian has served with Scarlet for over three years now; he knows the man is trustworthy. If Scarlet says he didn’t tell anyone, he didn’t tell anyone.

“Christ, you scared me,” he mutters, but Scarlet hears him all the same and snorts in response.

Killian would be perfectly alright with the conversation halting there, but, typical of Scarlet, the other man just _has_ to push and prod.

“So?” he demands. “What are you going to do about it?”

It’s an odd question, at the very least. “What, about you and Belle potentially becoming engaged? I’m not sure I should have a say in that, but you have my blessing if you’re asking for it and I’m very happy for you –”

“No,” Scarlet interrupts impatiently, “though I’m very grateful to have your support. But I meant, what are you going to do about Emma?”

And well, that really is the question, isn’t it? Because Killian truly doesn’t have any idea. He certainly still has feelings for Emma, and if her reaction to the presence of Miss Bell is any indication, her feelings may not be as negative as previously assumed either. But at the same time, the two of them are currently in a nice, civil agreement, sealed with a handshake, which is far more than he could boast even a matter of weeks ago. Killian is reluctant to disturb this new, thoroughly neutral status quo. The benefits if he rocks the proverbial boat have the potential to be stupendous, yes, but the entire thing could also blow up in his face and cause irreparable damage to he and Emma’s already fragile relationship. In the meantime, he’s stuck in a terrible dilemma, and at least for the moment the safest option seems to be staying silent. However, his non-committal shrug is less than well-received by his companion.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Scarlet demands. “You can’t ‘not know’ what you’re going to do.”

Technically, that’s untrue – it’s perfectly routine for a person not to know how to act in an emotionally fraught situation. But Killian understands the point all the same – it’s patently absurd for him to not have an approach to this situation, since he’ll need one no matter what. Still, it’s a little frustrating to have _Will Scarlet_ , of all people, trying to give him romantic advice when the man could barely plan three days in advance until recently (and really, God bless his sister for apparently inspiring that change).

“Well what do _you_ suggest I do?” Killian finds himself snipping back. Which is probably the entirely wrong approach, but he’s a little too irritated to moderate his tone – or, really, to even want to.

Thankfully, Scarlet doesn’t seem fazed in the least. In fact, he’s got a grin on his face that really rather worries Killian. The dread only increases as Scarlet opens his mouth.

“Well I’m _so_ glad you asked…”

Oh boy.

\------

Killian Jones starts sporadically visiting Misthaven Hall. Which isn’t a bad thing, per se. It just throws Emma a little off-kilter.

It’s not that here’s there for no reason – he always comes bearing news of the rest of his family that he thinks she might want to know, or brings a book he thinks she might enjoy or that had bearing on a previous conversation, or the one time he comes to offer Arendelle’s assistance when word reaches him of a small fire suffered by one of Emma’s tenants.

(Really, the fire is so minor that his offer is superfluous, and frankly absurd, but she’s touched by his concern regardless.)

And it’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the company, because she does. Even if he comes to the estate with a specific purpose, Killian always seems to end up staying for tea, or a short walk in the more even areas of the grounds. He is just as excellent a conversationalist as ever, of course, but Killian is additionally one of the only people in her life willing to simply exist with her in a comfortable silence. It’s… nice. She’s not sure what’s brought on this new attentiveness, and he never does anything to suggest he’s looking to renew their former relationship (which is particularly fortunate, since Emma is still unwilling to admit whether that’s a step she’s willing to take), but it’s comfortable, and companionable, and _nice_. Even if it does leave Emma feeling a bit bewildered.

There are worse things in life.

\------

It’s the last thing Killian would have expected, six months ago, to be entering into a not-quite-a-courtship with the woman he never thought he’d see again, let alone receive a precious second chance from. It’s actually a remarkably good plan that he and Scarlet have devised (especially since the original suggestion was “let’s lock you two in the pantry and see what happens”): be present, be patient, be amiable, and do everything in his power to quietly rebuild her trust in him. And so far, it seems to be working. Emma is slightly confused initially about his sudden increased appearances, but now seems accustomed to his visits – even happy about his presence.

Unfortunately, with the rest of his family’s return from Town, opportunities to see Emma on his own have dwindled considerably. Scarlet had proposed, as expected, and Belle had joyously and tearfully accepted, as expected. It’s all very exciting and romantic and truly a remarkable time for everyone, but conversation is now permanently fixed on weddings and it’s all a little overwhelming for Killian. At least Belle is a good, practical woman who took care of some of her own shopping while on Anna’s grand tour of Brighton and London’s shops, so there shouldn’t need to be another extended expedition. The Jones family already has a house in London, though it’s not much used now, so Belle and Scarlet should be able to live there after their marriage, removing the need for another house-hunting trip. Belle and Anna are probably only teasing about staging a double wedding, but Lord, a part of him rather hopes they aren’t. It would be nice to get all the madness over with in one fell swoop. In the meantime, he’s left listening to the chatter of wedding planning and wishing he had a proper excuse to spend time alone with Emma, who is alternately either dragged into matrimonial scheming or hiding at her own home from the madness of it all, where he’s loath to disturb her.

Somewhere along the line plans are set into motion for a ball at their home, hosted as a way to celebrate Anna and Erikson’s engagement and announce Belle and Scarlet’s. There’s loose plans in the mix to include a special cake for Emma as well, since her birthday is coming up at the same time. Truly, the household is run by madwomen.

All the while, Scarlet won’t stop pestering him about what kind of engagement gift he should procure for Belle. It’s well intentioned, he knows, since his midshipman just wants to please his now-fiancé, but Killian still wishes he would stop. Scarlet seems to be convinced that Killian and his past experience can lead him to exactly the right gift, asking whenever he can what Killian procured for Emma. He does his best to demure, toss out excuses that the perfect gift shouldn’t be based on someone else’s past shopping but rather on instinct, but the truth (at least in his eyes) is much more shameful. The truth is, Killian can’t give his friend proper advice, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he never found the perfect engagement gift himself.

\------

_The gift has to be perfect._

_That’s what he’s convinced himself, at least. When the perfect woman accepts your disaster of a proposal, seemingly against all reason, she deserves the perfect engagement gift to mark the occasion._

_The problem is, nothing is quite right. The things he deems equivalent to Emma’s status and worth as a partner are far outside his price range, as are all the more understated pieces he finds that he approves of, and the things in his budget that he likes (at least from opposite sides of the glass) display less than quality workmanship when examined up close. Most often, it’s not even an issue of the available pieces not being suitable for Emma’s societal status, but rather not suiting her taste. He’s looking for something simple without being austere, and quality-made without being too intricate or gaudy, and finding nothing that is just right._

_The one thing he does find is a beautiful set of hairpins decorated with tiny flowers. They’d be perfect for Emma – enhancing her natural beauty without being too ostentatious and taking over entirely. But when he’s expected to offer her a ring, or a lovely necklace, or at the very least maybe some earrings, the set of hairpins seems so small a gift – not to mention that their stones are only glass. It’s the perfect present; unfortunately, just not to mark their engagement with._

_He keeps looking for that impeccable engagement gift, but never finds anything – all the while remembering those perfect, humble hairpins. So he goes back to the little shop to purchase them, deciding they’ll be a wonderful gesture instead for her birthday some months away._

_A week later, the need for an engagement present is nullified, and he’s long gone by the time her birthday rolls around. But he keeps the pins anyways, carrying them from posting to posting and ship to ship._

_\------_

Alone in his room that night after listening to party planning all day, he remembers the pins, and frantically tears his trunk apart until he locates their small box.

They’re still not much – beautiful and made with care, but without any impressive materials to recommend them. But they’re also still exactly suited to Emma and her taste, somehow changing from light and youthful to elegant in the same way that Emma’s tastes have evolved in the past eight and a half years.

Looking at the box in his hand, he makes a split-second decision – one he hopes he doesn’t come to regret. Even after all these years, the pins are still the perfect gift. Now, presented with the opportunity, he’ll finally give them to Emma, and probably his heart on a platter as well.

Emma’s upcoming birthday has the potential to make or break him, and he’s not sure anyone in history has ever been as nervous for a birthday as he is now. Killian can only hope that she doesn’t reject the pins (not to mention his heart, his very soul).

After all the hope he’s engaged in in the past two weeks since their return to the countryside, he’s quite certain he wouldn’t survive if she were to toss them back in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, this has all just turned into "everyone gets a happy ending except the two folks we're invested in because their communication sucks". Sorry? We're almost there, I promise.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to give me kudos and comments - it makes me all happy and giggly and really, I'm still just thrilled that you guys are enjoying this.
> 
> I very recently got a tumblr, that I barely know how to use, but hey, another way to share this stuff, right? If you're interested in getting your fic that way, I'm @shireness-says. I'm definitely going to be putting upcoming oneshots up there, as well as the next multi-chap I'm planning to write, and can put up these chapters too (if that's a thing the people want). (Look folks I'm just muddling through this whole thing bear with me)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you're still enjoying!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics denote flashbacks. Many flashbacks. It's a little flashback heavy. Enjoy!

The Arendelle ballroom is loud, and crowded, and noisy, and Emma is thoroughly overstimulated.

The Jones-Frost ladies have put together a wonderful party – that’s not the issue. The issue is that Emma isn’t sure she actually wants to be here. She had smiled and acted supportive during the planning, and graciously thanked her friends for their generosity in partially making this a birthday celebration, but she was so ready for a quiet period in her life. However, when someone goes out of their way to do something nice for you – especially friends and loved ones – you can’t exactly reject their efforts. So Emma sucks it up and attends the ball.

The first half goes well, actually. The happy couples are heartily congratulated by all present, leaving Belle and Anna giddy and even the gentlemen in question grinning like fools and enthusiastically shaking offered hands. Emma’s happy for them, of course, but it’s a little bittersweet. Emma never got this, with Killian or anyone else – the fanfare, the joy expressed on her and her partner’s behalf.

\------

_Emma, as a child, has big dreams of romance. She dreams of meeting a handsome young man at a ball (or other acceptably fairytale-like venue) and being swept off her feet, followed by a short but deeply romantic courtship filled with flowers and poetry and professions of love. Eventually, he’d get down on one knee and declare how he couldn’t live without her, how the world is a dull and colorless place without her smile and her laugh, and practically beg her to accept his hand in marriage – which she’d, of course, accept. Then there’d be a lavish ball to celebrate their engagement with_ her _as the guest of honor three kinds of cake, and an elaborate wedding (little Emma thinks a ceremony in the spring would be especially beautiful). And then, of course, she and this wildly handsome and charming man would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after._

_But that’s not how things happen, of course. True, Killian is very handsome, and charming when he wants to be, but he’s also rather quiet and bashful – two qualities that, while she loves them now, never figured into her scheming. Not to mention, he meets her in a less than graceful moment at the museum (though he still tries to swear that it was like a fairytale to him). And of course, his proposal is a complete and absolute mess. But none of that really matters, because she_ loves _him, truly loves him, in a way that can make everyday a fairytale as long as they spend it together. And he loves her back in the same way._

_All the same, the little girl in Emma still wants the whole fuss. She dreams of sweeping across a ballroom in Killian’s arms after their impending nuptials are announced, and the way he’ll look at her as she comes down the aisle with rosy cheeks and a bouquet of tulips and daffodils._

_Instead, not even two weeks after his proposal, she finds herself alone, and all her childhood fantasies are shelved._

_\------_

It’s not all bad – in fact, there’s a multitude of bright spots. Though Mary Margaret and David couldn’t make it, Regina is here with Henry, and plans to stay for a few days before returning to her own manor house. Somehow, Captain Loxley had been invited as well (Emma suspect’s Killian’s interference there), so Emma gets to watch her flustered cousin interact with the man, gathering ammunition for future teasing. They make a handsome couple, she decides; Regina still doesn’t want to talk about it, refusing to even verbally acknowledge that she has a new, dashing suitor in her life, but Emma still has eyes. She can see the way Regina smiles at Captain Loxley, the way she graciously allows him to lead her across the dance floor with a content glow Emma can’t remember seeing before, and the way the Captain grins even wider when he earns a smile or a laugh from the reserved Lady Storybrooke. If there’s anyone who deserves a chance at love and a happy ending, it’s Regina; if her cousin can only get over her cynical view on romance and allow herself to embrace the possibility of love, she and Captain Loxley will be very happy together.

And then there’s Killian. Emma’s been keeping track of him throughout the night, if she’s being honest with herself. Killian is a quiet presence in the room, making his way around the edge of the dancefloor, beaming like the happiest man alive when Belle and Scarlet’s engagement is announced and generally acting more concerned with everyone else’s happiness than participating in the festivities himself..

They’re… friends. Of a sort. Emma’s not convinced that her feelings aren’t entirely that of friends. But no matter – that’s a concern for another time. The point is, they’re supposedly friends – she should feel comfortable walking over and speaking with him, allowing him to keep her company for the rest of the evening. But she’s struck with an attack of something like shyness, like a demure young girl she never quite was.

All the same, she’s lost any desire to remain in this crowded ballroom, and when she spots a gap in the crowd that would allow her to escape through the French doors to the balcony outside, she takes it.

\------

He watches her throughout the night out of the corner of his eye.

Killian is troubled to see that she’s not enjoying herself, but still hesitates to act. After all, what can he do? He’s a cripple who can’t lead her around the dance floor anymore, and if he goes over to talk with her, he’ll only monopolize her attention and keep her from other prospective partners. So he keeps his peace and stays on the opposite end of the room. When he sees her slip out to the balcony not long after dancing renews post-supper, he finally cracks and slips out after her.

She’s beautiful, out here in the moonlight, the soft beams making her hair shine more silver than gold. He had already thought she looked like a goddess – especially tonight, dressed in royal blue with pale ribbons running through her hair – but the full moon enhances it somehow, making her look softer and almost hazy, like something out of a dream.

He’s careful on the approach, making only just enough noise to alert her of his presence before joining her at the stone balustrade. Despite the October chill in the air, she seems unbothered by the cold, even in cap sleeves and her wrap hanging uselessly at her elbows.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he offers in lieu of a hello, and is rewarded with a smile. “I trust that everything is well with you?”

She nods quickly, seemingly recognizing his inquiry for what it is – concern over her sudden absence from the festivities. “Yes, I’m quite well. I just needed a momentary respite from the crush of the crowd is all.”

Killian chuckles. “I certainly understand that.”

They stand in silence for several minutes, but it’s comfortable. Friendly. That’s an aspect of he and Emma’s… whatever this is that he never appreciated as a young man: the ability to simply _exist_ together, without words or expectations. It’s Emma who finally breaks the silence.

“Do you ever feel like the rest of the world is passing you by?”

He thinks he might, but hums a questioning noise all the same, curious to learn her own perspective on the matter.

“I’ll be twenty-eight years old in two days, Killian,” she continues softly. “Everyone I love has already gone off and begun a life: Mary Margaret with David and the boys, Regina with Henry, Elsa with your brother, and now Anna and Belle with their beaus… don’t get me wrong, I’m so wonderfully happy for them. And I’m happy with my life, truly – I love my life and responsibilities at Misthaven, and the way I can control my own destiny. But sometimes…” Emma pauses, collecting her thoughts. “Sometimes, I feel like I got left behind in all that, and it makes me sad. Like tonight.”

It’s more than partially his fault that she feels that way, but he tries to smile reassuringly all the same. “It could still happen, love, there’s still time.”

But she scoffs. “Killian, look at that ballroom. All the other single ladies in there are young, in their prime. I’m a bitter, withered old thing in comparison, hardly of any interest to any eligible man. I missed my chance.”

“That can’t possibly be true,” he tries to protest, but she cuts him off with a cynical look. Clearly, there’s nothing he can say to make her believe him.

So instead, he swallows his pride and tries to forget his insecurities as he turns to face her fully, offering Emma his outstretched hand.

“Lady Misthaven, may I have this dance?”

\------

_He’s dancing with an angel. A golden-haired angel with a mischievous smile who mirrors his movements with an otherworldly grace. It’s the only way he can process the marvelous creature standing before him._

_Honestly, he still can’t believe she accepted his request for a dance, this goddess of mischief from the museum. Killian can hear her attempts at conversation, but they barely register, so enthralled is he by Miss Swan and every expression that flits across her lovely face. He barely remembers commenting on the unseasonably warm weather and agreeing that yes, he dearly loves to dance (which isn’t remotely true, but oh well) before snapping back to himself, just in time for the revolution of the dance to bring her back to him._

_“Tell me, Miss Swan, are you an avid admirer of ancient statuary?” he teases, reveling in the way her cheeks flush pink, even as she raises her chin in seeming defiance of any embarrassment._

_“I’ve been known to enjoy a well-crafted marble. The inscriptions are so helpful for practicing one’s Latin. And yourself, Lieutenant? Do you make a habit of meeting respectable young ladies at art galleries?” She tries to put on an indignant tone, but Killian can see her eyes sparkle, and knows she’s only teasing him right back. So instead, he just smiles in return._

_“Actually, Miss Swan, you’ll have been the first. A notable exception, if you will.” As the music allows, he leans in closer to ask a bold question. “Shall we make the most of that exception?”_

_(Lord, please, let her say yes, for he wants nothing more than to continue getting to know this remarkable woman.)_

_Her coquettish smile finally widens into a broad grin as she replies. “Why yes, sir, I believe we must.”_

\------

Their dance now is far from the graceful turns they used to execute, thanks to his leg. The wide, formal circling steps are ruled out – he can no longer properly keep a rhythm – but instead he holds her in a waltz position, slowly shuffling back and forth.

Even if it’s not a proper dance like the rest of the couples are executing back in the ballroom, Killian still revels in the closeness. He can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu, experiencing once again the same feelings that swept through his body in their first dance so many years before – sheer awe and wonder that at this moment in time, he gets to hold the most beautiful and remarkable woman of his acquaintance in his arms. Whatever may happen after the music concludes, he’ll cherish this moment forever.

\------

She’s dancing on the balcony with Killian Jones.

Eight and a half years ago, this wouldn’t have been so remarkable. But now, almost nine years since the day they first met, it’s a wonder. She knows that he doesn’t dance anymore – knows how certain activities aggravate his limp, has seen him stick to libraries and the sides of rooms during house parties and local dances. But he’d offered all the same when he saw her melancholy, and Emma wants to believe it’s because of _her_ ; that after all this time, and everything that’s happened, he’d still do anything to make her happy.

She allows herself to delight in the feeling of being held, gently yet securely, perhaps a little too close to truly be considered proper, swaying to the hint of music that floats out to their ears. Emma laughs as he spins her out, even if the movement is more gentle than energetic. They’re not those young kids anymore; this suits them better anyways. Most of all, she finds herself unable to look away from his face for more than a moment, and the way he wears a look that just might be adoration, if she allows herself to believe it.

\------

_Emma is a veritable whirlwind of emotions after Killian leaves._

_At first, it’s grief – drowning grief. Emma cries for days over the loss of the best man she knows. She already lost her parents as a child; why can’t she keep this one man? Why can’t he see that she’d give up anything if it meant they’d be together? But he has to be stupid and noble and leave her here with a broken heart._

_Then, the overwhelming sadness shifts to a fiery rage. How dare he make this decision for her? She is a grown adult who can make her own decisions. If she wants to throw away everything to be with him, she should damned well be allowed to. How dare he leave her behind?_

_Finally, after weeks and months, the fury settles into something closest resembling indifference. She’s just so tired – tired of thinking about it all, tired of feeling like this, just tired of all of it. Emma never wants to feel this way again if she can help it. So she constructs defenses around her heart, hardens them against intruders, and vows to never let anyone close again._

_The woman she is after Lieutenant Jones leaves is nothing like the one he met. This new Emma has a spine of the strongest metal, a strength in the way she carries herself, and no more than a flicker of interest in any of the men who come to woo her. She doesn’t turn them away, but the distance she is careful to maintain is obvious to anyone watching. She may never adopt the perpetual air of aloofness that Regina demonstrates, but the curious and exuberant troublemaker Emma used to be is tucked away into a corner of her soul and kept from the light. Emma crafts herself into her own person in an effort to protect her heart, and the resulting persona exudes a prickly distance that is all her own. And that’s how she remains in the years to come._

_\------_

Now, under the moonlight, she can almost let her walls down, can feel the cracks widening the more he gazes down at her with that content little smile that makes her think they still might have a happy ending after all.

The song finally ends, as it must eventually, but they remain in their quasi-embrace a moment longer. Killian is the one to finally initiate their disentanglement, taking a step back, and Emma can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“Emma, I…” but he seems flustered, like the words are stuck in his mouth and he’s not fully sure what they should be. He’s nervous, she realizes, watching him paw at the pockets of his coat like he’s searching for something. He has no reason to be nervous, truly; Emma knows they’ve had their ups and downs these past weeks and months, but right now, in this moment, she feels adored and cherished. He could ask her to run away to Italy right now, or to start a pig farm in the next county over, or something else equally outlandish, and she’d say yes – wholeheartedly. “Emma, I must tell you –”

“Why there you are, Captain Jones!”

And with those words from that infuriating blonde pixie, Miss Bell, reality comes crashing back down around Emma’s ears. Because Killian isn’t hers anymore – especially not after the way she’s treated him since his return to dry land and her company.

Whatever she had foolishly allowed herself to dream of in those minutes they danced together is not in the cards for Emma Swan.

\------

Killian could _throttle_ Miss Thomasina Bell.

He didn’t want to see her – hell, he hadn’t known she would be at the party tonight. But Emma hadn’t known that, and as Miss Bell announced her presence, acting for all the world like she had some sort of claim on him, he could practically see the walls rebuild in Emma’s eyes. She had made her excuses soon after in that same detached tone she uses for everything nowadays – she thinks she sees her cousin by the punch bowl, it’s been such a pleasure, but they have matters to discuss – and takes her leave, taking Killian’s heart with her.

It’s the worst timing too, right as he’s digging in his coat pockets to find the bloody pins. He doesn’t know for certain what he was going to say – truly, he was flying by the seat of his pants – but the gist was this: he loves her. He’s always loved her, and doesn’t see that changing any time in the future. He may have been an idiot all those years ago, but he regrets every moment they spent apart, and his heart will always belong solely to her. But those words are pointless now, since Miss Bell has driven Emma away with her sheer irritating presence.

The woman herself tries to strike up a conversation with him, but Killian is in no mood to put up with the yammering. It’s never easy to escape that girl’s clutches, however, and it takes nearly ten minutes of cold, terse responses to finally extricate himself and return indoors. By that time, Emma is nowhere to be found. What’s worse, Lady Storybrooke is fixing him with that murderous look again, any attempts to impress Captain Loxley be damned (though, interestingly enough, Loxley seems more amused by her facial expressions than anything else).

He can’t see Emma anywhere, but he does spot Scarlet along one wall, watching with a look of unrestrained affection as Belle relays the details of the proposal to yet another group of fawning young ladies.

“Have you seen Emma?” Killian practically demands. Infuriatingly, Scarlet only raises an eyebrow in response.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Jones, and thank you for your congratulations. Yes, we’re truly ecstatic, thank you.”

Killian groans. “So help me, Scarlet, tell me where Emma went or I’ll box your ears in.”

Thankfully, Scarlet seems to realize the seriousness of the question, and quickly sobers. “I haven’t seen her in at least forty-five minutes. Why? Is something the matter?”

Killian shakes his head, but still runs his hand through his hair in a nervous motion as he searches the crowd. “Not dire, but… well, I’ve mucked everything up, Scarlet.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” his friend tries to say in comfort, but Killian is having none of it.

“No, it’s entirely true. And if I don’t find her soon, it’s going to stay that way.”

Even with two sets of eyes, the lady in question is not to be found, having seemingly disappeared to some place they’re not privy to.

“Think, man, is there anything else you can do, any other way to fix this?”

In a flash of sudden, rare brilliance, it strikes him, and he rushes off to complete the most important errand of his life.

\------

Half an hour later, Captain Killian Jones delivers a letter and a small box into the hands of the Viscountess of Storybrooke, with the request that she pass them on to her cousin.

With a heart simultaneously full of hope and dread, he returns to the party like a man facing execution as he waits for Lady Misthaven to pass her judgement on his hopes and dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things come to a head...
> 
> Unless I accidentally add another chapter again, we've just got one left, plus an epilogue. Thanks for sticking with me, folks - I'm excited to wrap this up for you!
> 
> I am the recent possessor of a tumblr - @shireness-says. Come make friends - I'm hoping to get a couple of one-shots up there in the next few days.
> 
> Thanks, as always, for the comments and kudos! Y'all're the best.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, italics denote flashbacks. Oh, and a certain letter some of you might be interested in...
> 
> Enjoy!

Emma is hiding.

She’s not particularly proud of it, but that’s the way things stand. She just _can’t_ go back down there and watch Killian charm the insipid Miss Bell, especially not now, especially after the moment she thought they shared. So she flees to Elsa’s private sitting room, a place few people see and absolutely no one will think to look.

It’s not that she’s hiding from _everyone_ – Regina knows where she is, but Emma knows her cousin won’t tell anyone, and really will likely be too busy flirting with Captain Loxley (“I am _not_ flirting, it’s just a bit of conversation and dancing.”) for anyone to want to interrupt. Of course, Regina also thinks Emma is being absolutely stupid, but that’s a whole other matter.

“Look, Emma, you either had to make your move, or deal with the consequences,” she says. “You didn’t make a move, stake your claim or whatever, so these are the consequences.”

The thing is, Emma didn’t think she needed to make a move, since it seemed like Killian was already doing that. Everyone has been implying that he has feelings for her (or still has feelings for her, as the case may be); when he began calling on her after their return from London, she assumed it was Killian’s own way of renewing his attentions without directly saying as such. And Emma was open to that – after all, underneath all the anger and sadness she hid behind for so many years, her heart still, indisputably, belongs to Killian Jones.

Unfortunately, in the joy of rediscovery, she had entirely forgotten about all of the matchmaking on Killian’s behalf, all the reasons he might no longer be devoted to her. Sure, at the time, she had thought he seemed more irritated with the ordeal than interested, but who is she to judge how he feels after eight and a half years spent apart? He may well welcome Miss Bell’s presence and advances, for all Emma knows. If that’s the case, Emma will just have to learn to accept it; that doesn’t, however, mean that she wants a front row seat to see it.

So, Emma hides. It’s stupid and childish, but there you have it.

It’s not like she’s sitting in the dark, morosely reflecting on her great lost love like some awful heroine in a cheap novel. She’s brought a candle with her, and is very productively reading, thank you very much.

(The best thing about empty, out of the way rooms during crowded social events is that if a person ends up sighing and moping about dashed romantic hopes against even their own volition, there’s not actually anyone around to see it.)

Any pity party that may or may not be occurring is abruptly interrupted by Regina’s entrance, in all her stern, purple-draped glory.

“Good Lord, you’re being stupid,” the woman in question declares, but Emma is tired, and done with hearing Regina’s opinion on the matter.

“Would you just leave me in peace?” Emma huffs wearily. “I’m not sure I can take any more of your commentary, Regina.”

But instead of retreating, her cousin just raises one elegant eyebrow. “Oh? So you _don’t_ want to see this letter your Captain Jones passed along for you?”

That catches Emma’s attention. “There’s a letter?”

Regina hums, nodding in the affirmative. “Mmhmm. A gift too, if the little box he sent along as well is any indication. If you’re not interested I’d be more than happy to throw them into the fire, though I’m not sure how well the gift will burn –” but Emma is already grabbing for the items in the other woman’s hands.

\------

_They didn’t send letters while they were courting, not really. It wouldn’t have been proper, an unmarried man writing to an unmarried woman, and uptight Lieutenant Jones is nothing if not concerned with propriety._

_(“I’m just trying to care for your reputation, love, to do right by you,” he says, and even if she was irritated only minutes ago by his strict adherence to societal rules, the words positively make her melt.)_

_What she does have, though, are a collection of little notes that he slips her when no one is watching._

That shade of green makes you look especially enchanting.

Your smile haunts my dreams.

I went to see the marbles today, and thought of you.

My love for you grows each day.

_Technically, they’re all things he can (and often does) say in person, but Emma likes his little notes, likes the way she can trace each letter with her fingertips and practically feel the love emanating from each one. Emma is careful to save each little scrap of paper, keeping them in a box in her desk and reading them over and over again when she’s feeling melancholy or missing him something terrible._

_Even years after he leaves, she still has them. Even if they bring her more pain to look at, Emma keeps them all the same. They’re still his notes, after all, still his beautiful handwriting, and to get rid of them would be a feeling akin to reliving those last angry, heartbreaking moments all over again._

_\------_

Holding this latest letter in her hands, Emma feels a little like that young woman again as excited butterflies flutter in her stomach. But underneath the excitement lies an undeniable and intense case of nerves. Emma certainly hopes these pages contain good news, but what if they don’t? What if he’s writing to tell her that his heart has moved on, that he’s found someone else, that their dance was goodbye? Part of Emma wants to write off such negative thoughts as irrational, but the other part of her has already been forced to accept that the scenarios she’s envisioning are more than a possibility.

In an effort to put of reading the letter, Emma reaches for the box first. It’s small, lightweight, and Emma doesn’t hear anything rattling around when she gently shakes it. Despite racking her brain for anything this might be, trying to remember any passing comments that would have led to the purchase of this gift, Emma keeps drawing a blank.

Carefully, she opens the small enameled box, gasping when she sees what’s inside. There, nestled amongst the padded velvet dividers, is a beautiful set of floral hairpins. Each one is so delicately made that she’s almost afraid to touch them, and they’re encrusted with the tiniest stone flowers, in whites and reds and pinks and oranges and even a few hints of blue, all set in a cluster of fragile green leaves. Emma finally brings herself to handle the pins almost reverently, picking each up to examine it more closely. They’re more beautiful than anything she tried to imagine might be in the box, and she’s touched by the gesture. It’s a perfect present for her, something she’ll love, but wouldn’t necessarily have thought to ask for.

Buoyed by the warm feelings generated by her gift, Emma finally reaches for Killian’s letter, eagerly (if still somewhat anxiously) settling in to read.

And what a letter it is.

_My dearest Emma –_

_I hope it’s alright that I refer to you as such, for that’s how I’ve always viewed you – as my dearest one. Miss Swan may be a name for      your youth, and Lady Misthaven a name for the whole world to use, but dearest Emma can be just for me._

_Our timing has never been ideal, has it? First we were too young and without influence, then, too angry and proud and ashamed. And tonight, when we finally seemed to be on the same timeline, that infernal Miss Bell had to come and send us spiraling in different directions once again. Oh! I am certain I have never been so frustrated with another human being! And to think, interrupting just as I was about to share with you the dearest wishes of my heart._

_Emma, my Emma, my dearest, I must tell you that my heart has always been yours – **will** always be yours. I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You know I had tried to move on – all I can say in my defense was that, at the time, it was what one was supposed to do, was expected to do – but no other woman could possibly compare. You stole my heart, all those years ago, and never truly gave it back, even though I left. I know you don’t want my apologies, my darling, but I feel such shame for my actions then. It was a battle between my heart and my mind, and I allowed the wrong party to prevail. _

_I assume you have already opened your gift; you always were an impatient one (though I love that, love your absolute zeal for life and how you can never just wait for things to happen). If I have assumed erroneously, I invite you to open the box now. These hairpins were always meant for you – and while I believe that is true in some grand, philosophical way, what I mean is I bought them especially with you in mind many years ago now. I was searching for something to mark our engagement with, and while I never found anything for that event, I couldn’t get the thought of you wearing these out of my head. So I purchased them, planned to give them to you on your next birthday many months away, and them proceeded to keep them in my trunk for the next eight and a half years, never even entertaining the thought of giving them to anyone else. I like to think it’s fate that I can give these to you today; whatever the case, I hope you like them._

_I’m sure I’ve given you quite a lot to think about; I’m sorry for throwing all this at you at once, but I couldn’t stand for there to be any more misunderstandings between us._

_I’ll be waiting in the gardens if, after all this, you still wish to see me. Until then, I remain,_

_Faithfully yours,_

_Killian Jones_

Emma reads his letter, then reads it again. And once more, just for good measure. Truthfully, his words have left her in a state of awe and shock and wonder. It’s one thing to hear from others that Killian still has feelings for her; even if the ones relaying that information are quite insistent, it’s still quite another to be told that by the man himself.

There’s only one thing left to do, really. Quickly, Emma gathers up her gift and her letter, and practically flies out the door of the sitting room.

\------

Killian is waiting in the garden to see if Emma comes out, desperately nervous and trying not to be. There’s no longer any point to his nerves; he’s done all he can by sending her that letter, and the decision of what happens next rests entirely in Emma’s hands. Fretting over the matter won’t do him a single ounce of good.

That logic doesn’t keep down the nerves, unfortunately. His hair is a mess from running his hands through it, and his cravat has long since been loosened, now bordering on impropriety. He had been pacing earlier, but the repeated movement paired with the tension radiating throughout his body had aggravated his leg, requiring him to sit on a bench instead, anxiously bouncing the knee of his good leg as he waits. It’s not productive, it’s not logical, but it is _something_ , because Killian simply cannot sit quietly and wait any longer.

It feels like hours, days, a _lifetime_ before he catches a glimpse of Emma’s golden hair quickly weaving through the hedges. There seems to be a hurry to her movements, almost a franticness that he hopes bodes well for his prospects.

She finally emerges from around a corner to his little clearing, and abruptly stops in front of him. For several long moments, they just stare at one another, the silence only broken by the trickle of the nearby fountain and Emma’s attempts to catch her breath.

“Did you mean it?” she finally asks quietly, like she’s afraid of the answer.

But Killian nods anyways. “Yes. Every word.”

“You still love me? Even after the way I’ve treated you since we met again – everything I’ve done?”

Killian takes that as his cue to step forward and gently take her small hands in his. “Always. Always, my love. Emma Swan, I have loved you since that first moment in the gallery, and I always will.” Softly, gently, he transfers both of her hands into the grasp of just one of his so he can use the other to reach up and brush away the rogue tear that escapes her eye to trail down her cheek.

She still manages to smile through her tears, and he thinks once again that she sure must be the most beautiful sight in this world (or any other for that matter). “Well then I must tell you… well, I suppose I want to tell you the same. I love you, Killian Jones, my dashing lieutenant and brave captain. I never truly stopped, not even when you left and took my heart and happiness with you. You must believe me when I say, I have been bitter, and angry, but never inconstant. Never. You are the only one to truly engage my heart, the only one I’d ever want to do so.”

He can feel himself grinning like a fool, but truly, he can’t help it. When he woke up this morning, he could never have imagined the day would end with hearing Emma Swan, the great and only love of his life, declare that she still feels the same way, even after all this time. It’s a wonder.

He knows there will be time for grand, public declarations and squealing family members later, but right now, in this moment, all he can think about is how it has been far too long since the last time they kissed. He’s barely able to breathe out the words “May I?” before she’s nodding enthusiastically, and he’s bending down and she’s reaching up, and –

– and it’s _perfect_.

\------

_He doesn’t expect their first kiss. But then again, does anyone really anticipate the moments that are truly life changing?_

_It’s a day like any other, remarkable only for the fact that he gets to share it with her. Somehow he’s convinced her into a stroll along his favorite path – the one that passes the pond and her namesake bird – and they’re suddenly, blessedly, blissfully alone, if only for a moment. Miss Blanchard is, of course, nearby, lending an air of propriety to the whole venture, but she’s distracted by the birds flitting through the foliage, and paying less attention to Killian and Emma than she probably should. Besides Emma’s cousin, the lovely, shaded walkway along the weeping willows is entirely deserted, and Killian can’t bring himself to complain about it._

_He’s already planning to take advantage of that distraction to pull Emma’s arm even more securely through his own, maybe take the chance of lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back, when Emma takes him completely by surprise. She has a tendency to do that, he knows, loves to act in ways entirely unexpected, for the variety and the laugh of it all. But he never expected her to press up on the balls of her feet suddenly, lean in, and drop a kiss on his lips. It’s nothing much – just a quick peck, really – but he flushes red all the same, standing there with a look of wonder and absentmindedly bringing his own hand to his lips like maybe he can feel the imprint of hers still there if he just tries._

_When he finally snaps out of his little trance, he glances down to see Emma staring back at him with a smug look on her face._

_“Looks like I’ve finally found a way to rattle you, Lieutenant.”_

_And really, she has._

_(But he’d be amenable to a repeat of the experience, any time she likes.)_

\------

Killian remembers each and every kiss they’ve shared, but this one is different. No less spectacular – more so, really – but different all the same. The tentativeness and innocence of their youthful exchanges is nowhere to be found, replaced instead with an almost desperate kind of longing and something he thinks might be relief. As their lips move together and against one another, he registers the passing thought that if he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man.

(But then Emma shuffles just that little bit closer and opens her mouth just that little bit more and, well, he truthfully stops thinking much of anything.

They separate, some indeterminate amount of time later, but they stay close – close enough that Killian can rest his forehead against Emma’s and feel her breath on his neck. He’d be happy to stay like that forever, just forget the rest of the world, but Emma mumbles something against his neck and he’s forced to pull away just to hear her properly.

“What’s that you said, my love?”

She smiles up at him, somewhat dreamily he’s pleased to note. “I love my pins. They’re so beautiful.”

“I’m glad you love them.”

“And I love you more.”

He smiles a content little smile before dropping another kiss on her forehead. “I love you too, darling. More than I can say.”

And finally, everything is at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a happy ending, don't you? There should be an epilogue sometime in the next week, but we're basically done.
> 
> You all have been so good to me with the kudos, comments, and feedback. You're the best - keep it up. I always love hearing what you think!
> 
> I'm now on tumblr - @shirness-says. Come make friends! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this! I hope you enjoyed, and it lived up to itself!


	12. Epilogue

The marriage of Captain Killian Jones of the Royal Navy and Lady Emma Swan, Countess of Misthaven, is nothing like what either of them imagined as young people.

There’s no grand engagement celebration, for one. Really, not much of a fuss is made at all. Emma and Killian spend the rest of the night together in the garden, talking and laughing and kissing (and kissing and kissing and kissing…) and generally making up for so much lost time. Somewhere in that period of time, the pair decide that yes, this reunion does indeed mean that they’re once again engaged to be married, and that’s that. They tell their families the next day, to much ecstatic screeching and backslapping and general excitement. Amusingly, both Regina and Scarlet try to claim credit for engineering this happy occurrence – Regina in declaring that her matchmaking was all really just an effort to get Emma to admit her lingering feelings – which clearly worked, so truly, this is thanks to _her_ – and Scarlet similarly claiming that he devised Killian’s plan to win Emma back – which also, clearly, worked, so this is all thanks to _him_.

(Personally, Killian and Emma believe they would have found a way back to each other regardless, but it’s amusing watching the two argue over who should get the credit, so they keep their mouths shut.)

It’s easy enough to agree that they don’t want a production – they just want to be married, after all this time, and don’t need an elaborate ceremony. Even with Anna’s pouting and Regina’s disapproving cluck, their families eventually come around, and the date set for the first Saturday in December. So a small notice is put in the paper and the rest of the fuss dispensed with.

(That’s different, too; the dream spring or summer wedding being set aside in favor of simply being wed as soon as possible.)

Killian offers, over and over, to buy her a lovely engagement gift, but Emma refuses just as often. She already has her wonderful pins; that’s more than enough for her.

So they’re married that early December day from the local village church, presided over by Reverend Hopper. Only the family and dear friends are present (lord help them all if Mrs. Lucas isn’t invited to the ceremony), but the celebration is all the better for it. Things feel more intimate this way; like it’s a moment made just for the two of them and the people who truly matter.

The whole thing is terribly emotional. Killian tears up when Nolan escorts Emma down the aisle (and disregards Liam’s snickers at his back over his display of emotion), Emma tears up when he slips the delicate gold band on her finger, and Belle gets misty as they’re pronounced husband and wife. And, of course, Mary Margaret just cries continually from the moment the music begins.

(“I just love a happy ending,” she tries to explain. Her ever-patient husband just offers a third handkerchief from some hidden pocket.)

There _is_ a wedding breakfast after the ceremony, a concession to tradition that various sisters and cousins will not budge on. The spread is universally deemed delicious, the weather perfect (if cold), the table decorations sublime, but the newlyweds could truly not care any less, only having eyes for each other. Despite any teasing at the church, Liam gives a lovely speech, as does Regina, and another two handkerchiefs have to be located for Mary Margaret. Killian really doesn’t register much of the occasion beyond that; he’s far too busy holding his new wife’s hand and whispering in ear to truly care much about anything else.

The most redeeming factor of the wedding breakfast, at least in the opinion of the newlyweds, is that it’s held at Arendelle, not Misthaven, so they’re able to achieve some privacy at last simply by leaving for their own house rather than having to eject everyone from the home they now share. Instead, they get to share a series of delightful kisses on the carriage ride home, ready to embark on the rest of their lives together.

Their wedding isn’t at all what they might have imagined nearly nine years ago.

But it’s perfect all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C'est finis, mes amis! Or whatever grammatically correct french is. Point is, its done, I've officially completed my first multi-chapter fic!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed along and left me such lovely notes - I treasure everyone. I'm like a dragon who hoards comments, seriously.
> 
> What's next? Probably a bunch of one shots. I'm participating in the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer, so keep an eye out in June. And I've got another MC on the back burner - a Broadway AU with Emma as an exasperated stage manager and Killian as a rising star of an actor. I hope some of you will join me for that; I think it'll be fun.
> 
> One more time: thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> -FIN-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first proper multi-chapter fic (disregarding that other mess I've got in my writing folder...) and I'm excited to expand it and keep sharing with you all. I'm not planning for this to be massive, and I've already got a good idea of how to get where I want to end up, so hopefully it'll all be fine. Fingers crossed.
> 
> Please consider leaving kudos or comments - seeing any response at all gets me excited to keep writing.


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